Remember to Forgive
by Indelible Evidence
Summary: After a traumatic head injury, Kurt Weller wakes in hospital to find that nothing makes sense. The last thing he remembers is that Jane Doe was sent by a terrorist cell to infiltrate his team. Why is she now sitting by his bedside, holding his hand and insisting that they're married? Set late season 3.
1. A Marriage Erased

**Author's Note:** I know, I know, I have a million other fics to finish, but I think I can win NaNoWriMo if I start a new one now, so here we go! Hopefully this one will get me across the finish line. :) **  
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* * *

"Kurt? Oh, thank god. You're awake."

As Kurt Weller returned to consciousness, the first thing he felt was excruciating pain pulsing through his head. He groaned, reaching up to check his skull was still intact, and his hand met a swathe of bandages. Something had definitely happened to him. Was he in the hospital?

Someone was holding his other hand, and he wondered if Sarah had come over from Portland. She was the only one he could think of close enough to him to hold his hand these days.

He tried to open his eyes, and grunted with the pain, giving up the attempt. It was too bright in the room right now.

"It's okay, keep your eyes closed. Patterson's gone for the doctor. Let me get the lights."

He recognised the voice now, and it made no sense. Why was _Jane Doe_ sitting at his bedside, holding his hand?

"Jane?" he managed, his voice emerging hoarse and scratchy.

"Yeah. Don't worry; I'm still here." The room suddenly grew dimmer, and he cracked open one eye experimentally. Everything was blurry, and it still hurt, but it was progress.

She returned to his side and took his hand again, holding it as tenderly as though they were lovers.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why are you in the hospital?"

 _No. Why are you here?_

Before he could ask, she answered her own question. "You had an accident. A suspect was fleeing arrest. He ducked into a construction site and climbed some scaffolding. It collapsed right on top of you."

 _Well, that explains the head injury._ He blinked a few times, and his vision cleared. At least he still had his sight.

He focused on Jane. Last time he'd seen her, her face had been covered in bruises, and she'd had a gunshot wound in her side. She looked much different now. She was wearing more makeup than he was used to seeing on her, and she seemed to have regained the weight she'd lost at the black site. How long had he been unconscious? Months, from looking at Jane.

"You were in a coma for over two weeks," she told him, tears in her eyes, and pressed the back of his hand to her lips. "I've been so worried about you."

He wrenched his hand out of her grip, angry at her familiar touches and tone after what she'd done. "Why are you here, Jane? Was the case related to one of your tattoos? Is it making you feel guilty? Because it should."

"What?" Her expression filled with hurt, and she rose from her chair. "Kurt, I don't understand."

Her reaction made no sense. "Why are you acting like I don't remember you're not Taylor? Like things are like the way they were before my father died?"

Jane froze, fear and disbelief in her expression. "Kurt—"

"You're a terrorist, Jane. I can't just forgive you for that, even with a head injury."

Jane wrapped her arms around her waist defensively. "Kurt, what's the last thing you remember? The last case we worked, what was it?"

He thought back, impatient with the change of subject. "Uh… We just stopped those stinger missiles from being used to take out a plane full of Mexican politicians."

Jane sat down hard, staring at him.

"What?" Kurt was beginning to get the feeling something was very wrong.

"You don't remember the past three years, do you?" she murmured, almost to herself.

He shook his head. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, Jane, but this isn't funny. Get out of here, and get me my team. Reade. Patterson. Zapata. Hell, even Nas. Anyone but you."

She flinched at his words. "Look at your left hand, Kurt."

"What?"

"Just look." Her voice was quiet, but insistent.

He glanced down, then did a double-take at the wedding band sitting on his left ring finger. "I don't… What is this, Jane?"

In reply, she sadly held up her own left hand. A much more delicate ring adorned her finger, but still, the implication was slow to register with him.

"I'm your wife, Kurt. I know this might seem impossible, if you can't remember anything since just after we found out who I really am…but we've been married for over two and a half years."

Kurt couldn't help it. Despite the pounding in his head, he broke into derisive laughter. "This is ridiculous. You can't possibly think I'd buy this. Is this even a real hospital, or has Sandstorm set this all up to try to get information from me?"

A tear fell down Jane's cheek, and she brushed it away, looking towards the door.

"Until I see my team, I'm not trusting a word you say. Get out."

Jane didn't move, her eyes closed against more tears. "Kurt, please—"

"Get out!" Kurt insisted, and she finally moved, leaving the room at a fast walk without looking back.

* * *

"Jane? Oh, god, what's wrong?" Patterson caught her by the shoulders as she headed blindly down the hallway, fighting tears.

As the doctor in charge of Kurt's case stepped past her and went into his private room, Jane swallowed a sob, trying to get herself under control. "He…" She took a deep breath, then continued, "He has amnesia. The last thing he remembers is just after I came back to the FBI after the black site."

Patterson's eyes widened. "Oh, Jane…"

"I tried to tell him we were married, but he thought it was another Sandstorm plot. He made me leave, but he wants to see you and Reade and Zapata. You should go in and calm him down."

Patterson hesitated. "I don't want to leave you out here on your own."

"It's okay," Jane said, needing more than anything for her confused husband to see a familiar face. "He needs you more than I do. I'll… I'll call the others."

"Okay," Patterson said softly, and gave Jane a quick hug. "I'll try to talk some sense into him. Head injuries are tricky. He'll remember in time, I'm sure."

As her friend went to check on Kurt, Jane went into the ladies' room and locked herself in a stall, trying to take slow, deep breaths to calm herself down.

They'd been so much happier since Avery had moved in with them, finally putting the painful past behind them and beginning to look to the future. They were closing in on Roman and Crawford, and it seemed like there might even be a point when they could move back to Colorado, if they wanted to.

Had all of that progress been lost? Kurt couldn't even remember forgiving her for her involvement with Mayfair's death. He'd called her a terrorist.

A memory hit her, sharp and agonising. Kurt telling Zapata, _I can't even stand to be in the same room as her._

She was already so exhausted from over two weeks of sitting at Kurt's bedside, terrified he'd never wake up. Having him conscious was a huge relief, but now this…

Jane lost her fragile grasp on control and wept, leaning against the side of the bathroom stall for support. She and Kurt had come so far since those days, their bond forged through danger and adrenaline, each successful case bringing them closer as she'd proved herself to him. What if he never regained those memories? Could he ever trust her again?

* * *

"Patterson! Thank god. I was starting to think this wasn't even a real hospital."

Patterson stopped by the door as the doctor, who'd examined his pupils and asked him a few basic questions, murmured a few words to her before leaving the room.

"It's a real hospital, Weller," Patterson said gently, sitting in the chair Jane had been occupying. "And it's 2018."

"How is that even possible?" He closed his eyes, fighting dizziness. The bright light the doctor had shone in his eyes hadn't helped his headache.

"The doctor's going to get someone to grab a copy of today's paper, if you need the proof." Patterson leaned forward. "But it's true. And you and Jane really _did_ get married."

With every second that passed, Kurt could feel fear building up on the edges of his senses. It just wasn't possible that he could have lost memories of years of his life over one accident. But mostly he was numb, his panic held at bay by denial.

 _Jane lost all her memories._ He seized on that, sickened by the possibility.

"Patterson, I want you to take some of my blood and test it for traces of ZIP. It's just too much of a coincidence that I've lost memories right when I've been working a case based around amnesia."

Patterson looked uncomfortable. "I'm not gonna do that. A scaffold fell on you. Reade was right there with you when it happened, heading around to the opposite side in case the suspect jumped off that way. He saw the accident. And head trauma causes amnesia."

"Damn it, Patterson, I'm your boss. This is an order."

She bit her lip. "Umm, actually… You're not. Reade has your job now. After you and Jane moved to Colorado, he stepped up, and when you got back, you went back to Supervisory Special Agent."

Kurt was feeling more and more lost by the second. "This makes no sense. Even if Jane and I did get married, why would we move to Colorado? Our lives are here, in New York. And why would we move there and come back after such a short time?"

After a few rapid blinks and a glance at the door, as though someone else might save her from this conversation, Patterson groaned. "I don't even know how much I should be telling you. I don't want to overload your brain the first hour you're conscious."

"I feel like hell," Kurt admitted, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "I'm so confused, I just…" He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

After a moment of Patterson looking at him sympathetically, her whole demeanour brightened. "Oh!" She began to fiddle with her phone. "I still have a couple of pictures from your wedding saved here. Let me just… There."

Kurt took the phone and stared down at the picture on the screen. In it, he and Jane were in each other's arms, gazing at each other with loving smiles, seeming oblivious to everything else around them. The picture cut off at their midsections, but Jane was clearly wearing a white lace dress that showed off her tattoos, rather than hiding them.

"This… This is our wedding day?" They looked so happy. How could he have gotten past all of Jane's deception, her lies about being Taylor, the way she'd planted evidence to make Mayfair look guilty? She'd watched Mayfair die after her fiancé had pulled the trigger.

He felt like he'd betrayed himself. Not only himself, but Taylor and Mayfair, too.

"You haven't had the easiest marriage, but you're together, and you're happy now. Or at least, you were until this accident." Patterson gave him a slightly reproving look. "I'm not blaming you, because I can't even imagine how confused you are. But Jane's devastated that you don't remember. Next time you see her, try not to be so harsh, okay?"

Kurt looked one more time at the picture and then handed back the phone, wondering why he felt so guilty. "Did we at least get Shepherd?"

Patterson smiled. "Yes."

Kurt couldn't help a sigh of relief. It felt strange to take Sandstorm off his list of worries—as though he'd cheated to solve the case— but he got the feeling that was because he couldn't remember the details.

"You guys arrested her in Washington, DC, and now the CIA have her in a black site somewhere. We stopped Phase Two and saved millions of lives, and Nas eventually went back to Zero Division. Though she did get fired and go moonlighting for the CIA for a while. There were…circumstances."

"Okay. So how did we get her? What was Phase Two?" It was easier to focus on work than on his personal life.

He threw questions at Patterson as she outlined the case for him, and was just trying to come to terms with the fact that Shepherd had been watching him since back when he'd been at military school, and that Borden had been a Sandstorm plant all along, when Tasha and Reade appeared in the doorway. And behind them was—Rich Dotcom?

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Kurt demanded.

"Okay, that's a little hurtful. I'm here because I've been worried sick about you, just like the rest of these guys. Geez."

"He consults for the FBI now," Reade filled in.

Every time Kurt thought he might be beginning to get a grip on the situation, something else twisted out of his grasp. "What? Last time I saw him, he jumped off a building to escape FBI custody, wearing a parachute built into his tux."

Rich grinned. "Ahhh, one of my finest moments," he said nostalgically.

"I'm gonna go check on Jane, and _you_ are gonna come with me, before poor Weller's head explodes," Patterson told him, heading for the door and yanking Rich out of sight.

Reade and Zapata came further into the room. "So, what do you want us to fill you in on first?" Tasha asked. "Politics, or sports?"

Kurt groaned. "I don't think I can handle anything that doesn't relate directly to my life right now." He looked up at Reade. "I hear you have my job these days. If you were the one who hired Rich, I really don't think much of your judgment."

Reade and Tasha exchanged a look. "I don't even know where to start," Reade said. "Did you even _meet_ Hirst?"

"Hirst?" Kurt asked blankly.

"She was the director after Pellington," Tasha said, sitting down. Then she froze. "Oh, god. I'm assuming no one got around to telling you what happened to Pellington."

"Glad I brought the Sandstorm file with me. We're gonna need it," Reade added.


	2. Bombshells

**Author's Note:** Argh, so much to have Kurt remember! Glad you guys are along for the ride - as always, you rock!

* * *

"There's so much he won't remember," Jane said, shaking her head.

She, Patterson and Rich were in the hospital cafeteria, where the food wasn't fantastic, but at least it was edible. Jane picked at her meal, her appetite receding further every time she remembered something else Kurt _wouldn't._

Rich, on the other hand, was eating enough for all three of them. "Hey, don't worry. Amnesiacs usually get most of their memories back, though obviously your case is a little different. But since we know Weller didn't get a huge dose of ZIP…"

Patterson sighed. "He actually wanted me to take his blood and test it for traces of ZIP. I told him no, this was clearly a different case."

Jane looked up from her plate. "I think you should do it."

Frowning, Patterson took a sip of her coffee before responding. "Okay… Run your logic by me."

"Roman put bioluminescent tattoos all over my body while I was in and out of consciousness after an accident. It's not too far a stretch to assume that he might have snuck into Kurt's room while none of us were there, and injected him." Jane shrugged. "It might come to nothing, but I think we should try it, just to be safe."

"You have a point," Patterson admitted.

"And whether or not there's ZIP in his bloodstream, Jane gets to look like the good guy for taking his side. It's a win-win," Rich added, grinning.

"I'm not trying to manipulate him. I _am_ the good guy, Rich. I'm his wife." Jane pushed away her food. "God, he's not gonna remember he has a child. That _I_ have a child."

"That you ran away for eighteen months without saying goodbye. That you left him when you thought he'd killed your daughter. That you guys only really recently only got back on even ground after that…" Rich added.

"Thanks, Rich. I can always count on you," Jane said, fighting the urge to rub his face in his mashed potatoes. _At least Rich doesn't know about that night with Clem._

"What did the doctor say about taking him home?" Patterson asked gently.

"Tomorrow night, maybe. They want to observe him for twenty-four hours before they release him, do a scan to check the level of brain swelling, since now they know amnesia is involved." Jane rubbed her hands over her face wearily. "I don't know if he's gonna want me to be his nursemaid. After all, I'm just a terrorist, right?"

"He doesn't really think that, Jane." Patterson put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I was around at the time, remember? I saw what he was like when you were out of the room, when you were _in_ the room, when he didn't think anyone was watching him… He was in love with you even back then. And yeah, having you back on the team hit him hard, but it really didn't take that long for him to warm up to you again."

"Sure," Rich agreed. "He was obviously still head over heels for you when I dropped by for help with my Akkadian problem. That wasn't that long after you got back, right?"

Jane faked a smile, wishing she could believe their reassurances. How could she explain to them that the problem wasn't just the way Kurt felt about her, but it was also the amount that he was willing to let her in? He used to have such a hard time communicating his feelings to her, and even when he'd started admitting how he felt about situations, it had been one glimpse through a crack in his walls, then him hurriedly repairing the breach before she could get through.

It had been a month or so before their wedding when he'd actually started demolishing those walls in earnest. They'd still both had their problems with secrets, but their communication as a couple had been a lot better. To be back at square one with Kurt was more painful than she wanted to admit.

"I don't know what will happen," she told her friends, sighing. "But we'll get through it somehow. We've gotten through everything else, right?"

"Right," Patterson said, smiling at her. "And the difference this time around is that we'll know we can trust you, even if Kurt doesn't know if _he_ can. That should bring him around faster."

"Fingers crossed," Jane said softly.

"And hey, I've been rooting for the two of you since day one," Rich said. "When you guys were playing a married couple, back when you first busted me, it was impossible to tell that you weren't actually married. And that was way back before you actually got together. Hey, maybe you guys should do another undercover mission. That excitement, that sexual tension…it could help you re-bond."

Jane and Patterson exchanged a glance.

"Sure, I'll get right on solving a tattoo that needs that exact scenario," Patterson said.

"Hey, I can get in touch with Carl if you want to go back to the Hamptons. In all seriousness, though," Rich said, and reached out to take Jane's hand across the table. "You two are meant to be together. You've come through every obstacle that was ever thrown at you, and you haven't looked back. This isn't gonna be any different, Jane."

Despite the unlikely source of the reassurance, Jane couldn't help but feel a little more optimistic at his words. "Thanks, Rich."

"So, who do you think should tell him about Bethany?" Patterson asked.

Jane was getting a headache just thinking about it. "Under the circumstances? Probably anyone but me."

"I'll do it, if you want," Rich offered.

"Anyone but me or you, Rich. Sorry."

* * *

When Jane had come back into the room and asked for a word with Reade, Kurt had wondered what the hell was going on. He was distracted by Patterson arriving and taking some of his blood for testing, but when Reade came back and asked Zapata to step out… _Well, this can't be good._

"So, uh… Everyone decided it was probably best for me to be the one to tell you this."

Kurt searched his mind for possibilities. "Reade, if you tell me you and my sister are getting married, I swear…"

Reade grinned. "Nah. Though I _am_ getting married. To a New York Times journalist, actually."

Kurt shook his head, more out of confusion than anything else. "I swear, if I wake up to find this has all been some crazy dream, I won't be surprised. You're in a committed relationship. Tasha's CIA. Borden was a mole. Patterson went corporate. Rich Dotcom works for the FBI. Pellington's dead. Jane's my _wife_ …"

"Oh, I'm betting I can still surprise you, man." Reade settled into his chair.

Wearily, Kurt gestured for him to go on.

"Remember just after Jane went into the black site, and you had that one-night thing with Allie?"

Kurt stared at him. "I don't remember actually telling anyone about that."

"You, uh, didn't. But it became pretty obvious a few months later, when you told us you were gonna be a dad."

Kurt's mind went blank. "What?"

"You have a two-year-old daughter. Congratulations…again."

"I have a kid. With a woman who's not my wife."

"Yup. But even though she's not her biological mom, Jane was with you when you first met Bethany. She loves her as much as you do."

"Bethany." It was the name that actually made him start to believe. He'd named his child after Mayfair. He'd always thought he'd name a kid after Taylor, but then Jane had screwed that one up. "Do you… Are there pictures?"

"I'm willing to bet there's at least one in here," Reade said, and threw him his wallet.

Kurt opened it with hands that shook slightly, and drew out a slightly crumpled photograph of himself and Jane, posing with a dark-haired teenage girl and a blonde toddler. He stared at the toddler for a long moment, wonderstruck. "She looks just like Sarah did at her age."

When he looked up at Reade again, he was embarrassed to realise his eyes were filling with tears. "I have a daughter. Can I—? When can I meet her?"

"Tomorrow, hopefully. Jane let Allie know you're awake, and they'll be flying out as soon as they can."

Kurt just kept staring at the picture of his daughter. "Bethany…Weller?"

"Knight-Weller. You guys have joint custody, but since Allie and Connor live just outside of Denver, it's a long-distance parenting gig for you while we're dealing with Roman."

Suddenly, Patterson's comments about Colorado made much more sense. "Okay. I, uh… Shit. Am I a good dad?"

Reade rolled his eyes. "Trust me; aside from being a little over-protective, you're the greatest dad any kid could have. Back when you lived over there, you had Bethany whenever Allie had to work and you didn't. You adore that girl. And she loves you."

Kurt let out his breath slowly. "I just thought, since my dad was—"

"Nah. Don't even think that." Reade shook his head.

After a moment, Kurt frowned. "Wait. I'm letting a terrorist help to bring up my kid?"

Reade sighed. "Stop it, man. Remi was the terrorist. Not Jane. When she came out of the bag, she started fresh. She just got manipulated when she was confused, is all." He leaned forward, almost threateningly. "I know you're confused. But if you can't trust her, trust _me_ when I say she's more than proved herself."

Feeling almost like he'd just been reprimanded by the school principal, Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Okay."

One more look down at the photo, and he finally registered the fourth person in it. "Who's the teenager?"

Reade got up from his chair. "Ahhh… That one's not for me to tell. You'll have to take it up with Jane."

"She's Jane's?" _What the hell?_ He was less shocked than he had been when learning about Bethany, but to find out that Jane had had a teenage pregnancy was still pretty surprising.

"Uhhh… I'm just gonna…"

"Reade. I already guessed. Sit down."

His friend resumed his seat, sighing. "Fine. Yeah. Shepherd took Avery away when she was a newborn, when Jane was still recovering from the birth. She gave the kid to a fixer who adopted her out without Jane's consent. After Avery's parents died, she came looking for Jane. There's more to that story, but I'm really not the one to tell it."

Despite his conflicted feelings about Jane, Kurt's stomach twisted as he thought of how devastated she must have been when she'd discovered her mother had given away her child. He'd only known about Bethany for a few minutes, didn't remember ever having met her, but the thought of someone stealing her away… He forced himself to relax.

"You guys aren't the most conventional family, but you make it work. You'll see. And hopefully, soon you'll remember."

Kurt's head was still pounding, and getting worse. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Shoot."

"No more new information today. From anybody. Please."

Reade nodded ruefully. "I can see how the parenting info was the last straw. Don't worry, I think visiting hours are almost over, anyway. But Jane wanted to say goodbye before she goes home for the night. I _strongly_ suggest you bite your tongue if you feel the urge to use the T-word again."

"Noted." To see Reade, who had been so suspicious of Jane at first, standing up for her now—that gave Kurt a flash of shame at the way he'd spoken to his wife. "Thanks, bud. For your honest opinions."

"You'll always get those. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Kurt closed his eyes as Reade left, hoping the headache would recede. His mind was buzzing with all the new information he'd been trying to absorb over the past few hours, but despite all of the important facts he'd learned, only three of them preoccupied him now.

Shepherd had been watching him, and guiding the path of his life, since military school.

He had a daughter.

He was married to Jane Doe.

"Hey."

At the sound of Jane's quiet voice, he made himself open his eyes. His wife was standing uncertainly in the doorway, looking prepared to leave if he so much as frowned. _She really must be tired—or she's changed a lot since I can remember._ When Jane wanted to do something, she usually had no problem letting him know, as forcefully as necessary.

"Come in," he said wearily. "Just, please, don't tell me anything I don't already know."

Jane came in and sat beside him, her guard raised a little. "I remember what it's like. Nothing else new, I promise."

He couldn't help but feel guilty for the way he'd snapped at her when he'd first woken up. Part of him didn't know how he could ever have forgiven her for the massive breaches of trust she'd committed. But as he watched her, another part of him understood only too well. Whenever Jane Doe was around, he subconsciously resonated on her frequency. Even now, when he was still raw from her betrayals and Mayfair's death, he had the urge to reach out and touch her hand.

"At least I don't have it as bad as you did," he said. "I still recognise everyone—at least, everyone who was here today."

"How's it feel to learn you're a father?" Jane asked gently.

"About as weird as it feels to learn that I'm a husband," he admitted, looking down at the ring on his finger again. He didn't seem to be able to stop staring at it. "I… I'm sorry I was harsh earlier."

"Under the circumstances, I understand." She gave him the same kind of look he remembered from the day she'd told him she'd wanted to be Taylor, and that was why she'd lied about remembering fishing with him. Her expression was sad, and somehow yearning. "I'd ask if you have any questions, but I guess if you don't want to know anything new today…"

"Maybe tomorrow." He rubbed his forehead, hoping the pressure would help the pain. It didn't. "Jane… Patterson told me you backed me up about the whole blood testing thing. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She shrugged. "Roman is tricky. And if it were me, I'd want to be sure, too."

A nurse came into the room and checked Kurt's chart. "Visiting hours are over, folks. Sorry, Ms. Doe, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

"Sure." Jane shot her a quick smile, then stood up, looking at Kurt a little awkwardly.

"You didn't take my name when we got married?" Kurt asked, mainly just to break the tension. "Even though your name is literally code for 'anonymous female'?"

Jane laughed. "We had this conversation on the run-up to the wedding. You thought I should change it then, too. But really, I like being Jane Doe, even though when I tell the bank or the insurance company, they think I'm prank-calling them. It's the name it feels kinda like I was born with. As me, not as…" She glanced at the nurse before finishing, "…who I was before the ZIP."

Kurt nodded, fighting back a touch of melancholy that he didn't remember any of their wedding planning. Or the wedding. Or the honeymoon. Or even how they'd gotten together.

"I'd better go, before they try to kick me out." Jane stepped towards the door, her eyes on his face. "Get some rest, okay? I love you."

Kurt froze for a moment at the easy way she'd just confessed her love for him. By the time he'd recovered enough to wonder if she expected him to say it back, she was already out of sight.

A few months ago—a few months and a couple of _years_ , he reminded himself bitterly—hearing those simple, heartfelt words from Jane would have been a dream come true. But that was back when he'd thought he'd known her. When he'd thought she was Taylor Shaw.

Even so, as the nurse took his vitals and quietly left again, he couldn't shake the sense of elation Jane's admission had left him with. _She loves me._

It affected him as profoundly as learning about Bethany had. He didn't want it to mean anything—not after the way she'd lied to him—but he couldn't deny it. A part of him still loved her, too.


	3. Father-Daughter Time

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been a long time since I updated this one! I got a couple of messages prodding me to update it recently, so I figured I'd change that. This chapter is light on Jeller, but has some family feels, since Allie and Bethany are visiting. And, as always, Allie's dropping the truth-bombs.

* * *

"So, how'd you sleep?"

The day shift nurse, who'd introduced herself as Annie, shadowed Kurt back from the bathroom to his bed. Having been in a coma for a couple of weeks, he was now what was referred to as 'deconditioned'—his muscles had become weaker and unaccustomed to their usual function, and it would take a few days for him to stop staggering around.

Reaching the bed, Kurt dragged himself back under the covers, resenting how exhausted a simple trip to the bathroom had made him. Not only had he lost some of his memories, but his physical fitness had been affected, too. It didn't seem fair.

"I slept pretty well. Except…when I didn't." Kurt had woken up several times, and each time the weight of his situation had hit him like a freight train.

 _Shepherd paid for my school scholarship, stopped my promotion to the DC office of the FBI._

 _I have a two-year-old daughter with Allie Knight._

 _I'm married to Jane Doe._

He'd filtered out most of the rest, too overwhelmed to process it all. But those three things were enough to keep him obsessing. What else might Shepherd have controlled over the course of his life? How would his visit with Bethany go today? Was he a good parent? And how the hell had things changed so drastically between him and Jane?

The nurse smiled at him sympathetically, helping him draw the covers back up over himself. "Your chart says you have some memory lapses. Let me just put in a good word for your wife. She's been here every day, from the moment visiting hours start to the moment we kick her out. The only time she leaves is when one of your friends is visiting you, and even then, she looks like she wants to stick around. She's been so worried about you."

"Thank you," Kurt said, too tired to tell her he thought she was overstepping her bounds a little. He rubbed his aching forehead as Annie left the room.

Everyone seemed to have glowing words of praise for Jane these days. He just couldn't reconcile them with the things she'd done behind his back, the danger she'd put Mayfair in—even if it had been unintentional. She'd still done illegal things at Oscar's bidding, all for selfish gain.

 _Would you really have done differently if you were in her position? What if you didn't even know who you were, let alone what you'd been doing over the past couple of years?_

Kurt scowled and turned his attention to his breakfast tray. It might be 2018, but hospital food still sucked, and probably would forever. It seemed fitting to accompany his irritable mindset with a terrible meal.

* * *

At around ten in the morning, his first visitor arrived, leaning in the doorway with a smile. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

"Allie, hey. Good to see you." Kurt beckoned her in, noting that she was alone. Had she brought their daughter with her? Was he about to meet Bethany? "Uhhh, not sure how to answer that question."

She came to sit by his bedside, looking relieved. "I'm just glad you're awake. I know things are a little overwhelming right now, so I'll let you lead the conversation."

One thing Kurt had always appreciated about Allie was her lack of bullshit. Whatever her opinion was, she'd give it honestly, and in this kind of situation, that was exactly what he needed.

"So, we had a kid. Didn't see that one coming."

Allie grinned. "Wow, I haven't seen that look on your face since the end of my second trimester. I guess you're just as shocked now as you were the first time you heard."

He was just about to make a sarcastic remark about being glad she was finding this whole thing so amusing, when she turned serious. "Yes. We did. I guess your memory lapse starts just before I told you about it, three months into the pregnancy. I wasn't actually sure if I was gonna keep the baby, since we'd only had a one-night thing, and I was starting to see Connor…"

"Wait—not _that_ Connor?" He made himself roll his eyes, giving her a hard time to mask the sudden queasiness he felt at the thought that his daughter might not have existed. Sure, it would have been a valid choice for Allie, and he never would have begrudged it if she had terminated the pregnancy—but he'd already grown attached to the child he'd seen in the photograph.

"Yes, _that_ Connor. You guys actually get on great these days. Which is good, because I'm starting to think seriously about marrying him." She shook her head. "But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about. Do you feel up to meeting Bee today?"

"That's what we call her? Bee?" As Allie nodded, butterflies flitted around his stomach. "I'd like to, i-if you think it's a good idea. I just…don't remember ever being her dad, you know? What if I screw it up? Confuse her?"

"Kurt, you're a natural. Okay, I guess you had the same learning curve to go through as I did, back when we were new parents, but I think you adapted quicker than I did. And now she can walk and talk, she'll probably be the one controlling everything about this anyway."

Kurt nodded, wondering how he could possibly be a good parent when his own father had been so terrible.

Allie took his hand and squeezed, sensing his fear. "You're nothing like your dad, Kurt. And Bee loves you."

Kurt took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do this."

"I'll go get her." She got a few steps towards the door, then turned. "I haven't told her you don't remember her, so if she asks you something you don't know the answer to, don't panic. I'll step in and distract her if I need to."

"Thanks, Allie."

A couple of minutes passed, while he fought his nerves and excitement to meet his daughter. When Allie reappeared, a blonde-haired toddler clinging to her, his heart leapt.

"Here we go." Allie came up to the side of the bed and sat Bethany down.

The child turned to smile at him, and Kurt's heart melted like butter under a hot knife.

"Oh no! Daddy got ouchies!" Bethany leaned over and frowned at the dressing on Kurt's forehead. "You okay, Daddy?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." He fought back tears, overwhelmed by the love he felt as he spoke to his daughter. "Are _you_ okay?"

Bethany looked from Kurt to Allie, obviously distressed. "Daddy's crying!"

"It's okay," he tried to reassure her, smiling. "I'm crying 'cause I'm happy to see you."

Bethany considered that, then giggled. "Silly Daddy."

"Yeah, I am pretty silly, huh? You gonna tell me what's been going on since I last saw you?"

Bethany launched into a bunch of rapid-fire toddler-speak, her words half-formed and garbled. Most of what she said, Kurt couldn't interpret, and he looked at Allie helplessly.

"Don't worry," Allie told him. "At this age, it takes some getting used to before you'll understand much. She's talking about daycare."

Kurt asked a few questions and got enthusiastic, partially comprehensible answers—his daughter was apparently not shy in the slightest. When Allie moved away from his bedside, he glanced up to watch her take a toy medical kit from Jane in the doorway.

"Jaaaaaaane," Bethany called, smiling and reaching out a hand.

"I'm right here, Bee. I'm just gonna go get something to drink, okay? I just brought your doctor bag." Jane looked from the little girl in his lap up into Kurt's face, her expression soft. "Morning."

Part of him was embarrassed to be so openly emotional in front of her, but another part of him overrode it, as though he was used to her seeing him this way. "Hey."

She withdrew before he could say anything else to her. He would have spent time wondering about that, but now that Bethany had her plastic stethoscope, there was no stopping her.

Kurt was treated to the full extent of Bethany's imaginary medical qualifications, helped along by suggestions from Allie. By the time Bethany had very gently applied a Band-Aid on top of his real wound dressing, Kurt wasn't sure his heart had ever felt so full.

"I'll get better really soon now. Thanks, Bee." He kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, Bethany, wanna go get some chocolate pudding from the cafeteria?" Patterson asked from the doorway.

"Oh, Bee, your favourite!" Allie said. "You wanna go? Daddy needs to have a rest so the Band-Aid can work."

"Yesssss. Aunt Patsun, carry me!" Bethany entreated.

"Okay, pack up your toys first, and I will," Patterson told her.

"Chocolate pudding at ten-thirty in the morning?" Kurt asked Allie sceptically.

Allie grinned. "Only because this is a special circumstance. We figured you'd need a break. See, your parenting instincts work fine. No swearing, no chocolate before lunch…"

Patterson approached the bed. "Hey, Kurt. How are you feeling?"

 _In love with this perfect little girl._ He didn't say it, but he didn't have to. He could tell Patterson already understood how overwhelmed he was right now. "A little better than yesterday. Thanks."

Patterson nodded. "Your blood was negative for ZIP, by the way. It looks like the amnesia's a hundred percent head trauma induced."

That was a relief. "Thanks for checking."

"Say goodbye to Daddy, Bee," Allie said gently.

"Do I get a hug?" Kurt asked, and laughed as Bethany threw her entire body weight into his chest and shoulder.

"Bye, Daddy. I love you!"

"Love you too, Bee," he told her, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life.

After smacking a theatrical, wet kiss onto his cheek, complete with a 'mwah!' sound effect, Bethany held out her arms to Patterson, who picked the toddler up.

"Catch you guys later," Patterson said, gathering her squirmy burden a little closer.

Once she'd left the room, Bethany waving over her shoulder, Kurt realised how quiet and peaceful the atmosphere was. He looked at Allie and laughed a little, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"I… I don't know what to say." He let his breath out slowly, shaking his head. "She's perfect."

Allie smiled and rolled her eyes. "I don't know if you'll use that word to describe her once you've rediscovered what her tantrums are like. But she's pretty amazing, huh? Somehow, she came from that awful, drunken one-night stand we had."

"It wasn't _that_ awful," he said automatically.

Allie gave him a sceptical look until he grinned. "Okay, maybe it wasn't one of our greatest hits. But I'm glad we had it. Even though we didn't work out."

"Yeah, we're much better as friends." Allie levelled a stern look at him. "Which brings me to the next chapter in my visit."

"You're gonna give me a hard time about…giving Jane a hard time." By this point, he wasn't surprised.

"Bingo." Allie sighed. "I know what she did. I also saw her bending over backwards to fix it, and she never pretended you shouldn't be hurt or angry about what happened."

Kurt nodded. "I get what you're saying. I just—"

"Hey, still talking, here," she told him, and he suppressed a smile as she continued. _She hasn't changed at all._

"Not long after I told you I was pregnant, we worked a joint case and ended up separated. Jane and I were at one end of the building, and you and Nas were at the other. We were vastly outnumbered, with bad guys in between our two mini-teams. I got shot in the thigh, and you couldn't get back to us."

Even though the situation had long passed, Kurt couldn't help but tense up. Allie and their unborn child had been in serious danger? "What happened?"

"Relax. We came through it fine—thanks to Jane. As she was putting a tourniquet on my leg, I told her I was pregnant with your baby, and she had no idea up until that point. She was pretty shocked, and knowing the way she's always felt about you, I don't blame her. But she got herself together, covered me and protected me, then picked me up and carried me when I couldn't walk any further. She was about to get shot in the back trying to get me to the exit door, when you and Nas finally arrived and took out the threat behind us."

Kurt was startled to realise the idea of Jane taking shots to protect Allie and the baby was just as viscerally distressing as hearing about Allie's injury. He blew out a relieved breath as Allie sat back. "I would have been happier not remembering that happened."

"I didn't tell you to make you worry. I told you because Jane was willing to die to save your baby's life, and mine. She's not perfect, but that day, she went a long way to fixing what was broken between you two. That was why I wanted to mention it. God knows she won't tell you about it herself."

Kurt nodded. "Thanks, Allie." He hesitated. "You and Bethany were okay? No complications to the pregnancy?"

"We were fine. Everything else went without a hitch, and you saw the result. Bee is—"

"Perfect," Kurt said again, his mind returning to the little girl.

"Just wait until you've had custody of her for a weekend and had to clean up her failed attempts at potty training. You'll find a better word." Allie stood up, amused. "Okay, I'm gonna go make sure she doesn't coax a second helping of chocolate pudding out of 'Aunt Patsun'. We'll come back late afternoon, if you're not too tired. Jane will probably visit in an hour or so, but you should get some rest first."

"You guys have a whole schedule worked out?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah. You've had everyone pretty worried." She smiled and headed for the door. "Take a nap. You might not be a toddler, but I know you need one."


	4. A Difficult Discussion

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's still reading along! I've been horribly ill all month, but someone gave me a nudge about this fic yesterday, so I thought it was about time it had an update. It's not my best chapter ever, but Jane and Kurt get to (sort of) discuss a few things. Their relationship is still horribly awkward, though - you've been warned!

* * *

Jane took a deep breath outside the door to Kurt's room. The nurse on duty, who'd been checking his vitals, came back out and gave her a small smile of encouragement. "He's awake. You can go in."

Unsure how this conversation would go, Jane approached the bed.

Kurt didn't look awake. The room's lighting was dimmed, and she guessed that must be to ease his headache. Even so, she could tell he was still very pale, his eyes closed and his body motionless. His physical pain would be hard enough for him to deal with, but the emotional toll of losing his memory—of going back to what she knew was a very hard time in his life—must be excruciating. She hadn't been able to sleep last night for worrying—about him, and about their relationship.

Even so, the Band Aid Bethany had stuck on top of Kurt's bandages made Jane's spirits rise a little. At least he had some good news—that he had a daughter who adored him—to go along with the bad.

Had he gone back to sleep in the moments between the nurse leaving and her entering the room? If so, she didn't want to disturb him. As quietly as she could, she moved the visitor's chair closer to the bed and sat down.

"Jane?" He didn't open his eyes, but turned his head in her general direction.

"Yeah. How'd you know it was me?" She spoke as softly as he had, not wanting to aggravate his headache.

"Educated guess." After a moment, he elaborated, "Allie mentioned you were next up on the schedule."

The dryness of the comment made her wonder if he resented the way they were dealing with this. "We're not trying to manage you, I swear. We just don't want to overwhelm you."

He gave a slight shrug. "It's okay. I get it."

Concerned that he still hadn't opened his eyes, Jane asked, "Are you in a lot of pain? How long until your next dose of meds?"

"Not allowed any pain relief until after the brain scan." He grimaced. "I'll cope. I've felt worse, once or twice."

"Do you want me to leave you in peace?" Jane didn't want to go, but under the circumstances, his comfort was more important.

"No, stay. We should…" He hesitated. "We should talk."

Again, Jane was unsure whether to be optimistic or afraid. "I'm here, Kurt."

He cracked open one eye and flinched, obviously suffering.

"It's okay. You can keep your eyes closed." It was difficult to watch him struggle and not be able to help. Jane's fingers twitched with the urge to hold his hand, but she remained otherwise still, knowing how much he must still distrust her.

Her stubborn husband forced his eyes all the way open anyway, blinking rapidly a few times before focusing on her face. "Allie, uh… She mentioned that you saved her life while she was pregnant. That you would have been gunned down trying to get her to safety, if we hadn't gotten there in time to cover you."

"Oh, I, uh…" Jane scrambled for a response, mentally cursing Allie for not giving her a heads-up about this. It had happened during a dark time in her remembered life, and she hadn't thought about it in years. "She didn't mention she was gonna tell you about that."

To her surprise, he reached for her hand and squeezed it firmly, holding her gaze. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

She nodded, feeling as awkward as she had the first time they'd had this conversation. "After everything I did, it was the least I could do for you, right?"

He frowned, pulling his hand back at the reminder of their troubled past. "I never would have expected you to die for me, Jane." After a moment, doubt crept into his eyes. "Unless I said otherwise at the time…?"

"No," she assured him hastily, shaking her head. "We, um, we never really went that far into it. I was just glad I could help."

Did he suspect that she'd resigned herself to death, determined to follow his instructions to keep Allie safe, no matter what? Did he sense she'd felt that she had little reason to live at the time, and that dying for a good cause had seemed worth it?

At the time, she'd deflected Kurt from thinking too much about it by congratulating him on his upcoming fatherhood. She didn't have that to fall back on now, but she did have a similar card to play.

"Bethany's visit seemed to be going well when I stopped by earlier."

Kurt's face softened, the way she'd known it would. "Yeah. I don't remember ever meeting her before, but it still feels like I know her, somehow."

Jane relaxed at the successful change of subject. "That's a good sign, right? It means you do remember her, even if your brain is having trouble accessing it right now."

"Let's hope so." He closed his eyes again, sighing. "Maybe when I get out of the damn hospital, I'll start getting a few flashes, like you did."

"Maybe." Jane couldn't help but smile a little, remembering the methods the team had employed to try to trigger some of her own memories. "If not, we'll just take you out into the field and hope something comes back."

Kurt gave a wry smile, his eyes still closed. He must have thought it was important to look at her while he thanked her for saving Allie and Bethany, but he was clearly paying the price for that decision with an intensified headache. Jane gazed at him sadly, still hardly able to believe they'd lost all the progress they'd made. All she wanted to do was kiss him and tell him she was there for him, whether he regained his memories or not—but since he'd called her a terrorist only a day earlier, she didn't think they were back at that stage of their relationship yet.

And that reminded her…

"There was something I wanted to ask you about."

Although his eyes were closed, she sensed his focus intensifying on her anyway. "Can't promise I'll know the answer, but you can ask."

Jane steeled herself for the rejection she was pretty sure was coming, pausing for a moment to consider her phrasing, then taking the plunge. "The doctor mentioned maybe letting you go home tonight, if the brain scan looks good, but only on the condition that someone's there with you. I just don't want to assume that that someone will be me. Allie's offered to stay with you if you'd be more comfortable. Patterson, too. Zapata's offered me the use of her couch for the time being, so I'll have somewhere to go if you need some space."

Kurt went still as she spoke, as though only just processing the situation in full. "We live together now, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Same Brooklyn apartment, or did we sell it when we moved out to Colorado?"

"It's the same one." That would make things easier for him, she hoped.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. "I'm not gonna force you out of your home, Jane. As long as we sleep in separate beds, I'll be fine."

Struck by another pang of grief for their lost closeness, Jane nodded, then realised he couldn't see it. "Only if you're sure. I heard you tell Zapata you didn't want to be in the same room as me, back then. If that's how you feel now—"

He shrugged. "Things aren't right between us, but everyone is telling me not to be so hard on you. Since they know things I don't, I guess I should trust their judgement."

Pushing away hurt, Jane tried to look on the bright side. At least he wasn't shunning her company altogether. At least, not yet. She should probably deal with the other problem they were sure to face, while they were talking like this.

"Kurt, there's one more thing I think it's important that you know right now. And you're probably not gonna like it."

He tensed up, waiting.

Jane swallowed hard, half convinced she was about to lose the tenuous connection she had built with him over the course of this conversation. _Just do it. Hiding things until he remembers them won't help._

"Earlier this year, I, uh… I left you. Left our marriage, for a week or so."

Kurt opened his eyes to stare at her, giving only the slightest sign that he was in pain. His confusion seemed tinged with alarm. "What happened?"

Jane shook her head. "We were both at fault. We both kept things from each other that we shouldn't have, made some bad decisions. Roman had gotten involved to make everything worse, and I…I decided I couldn't deal with what you hadn't told me." She forced herself to breathe, then pushed on. "I know you'll want to know reasons, but honestly, I'm afraid to go into detail right now. We barely got through it the first time, and our relationship was strong when the truth came out. I don't want to hide anything from you, but if you hear it now, when you can't remember any of our marriage, I'm scared you'll be the one who leaves me. Permanently."

His words edged with frustration, Kurt demanded, "So why tell me it happened at all, if you're only gonna make vague hints?"

"Because when your memories start coming back, I don't want you to think I was trying to hide that it happened." Her voice came out sharper than she intended, and she closed her eyes in self-recrimination, softening her tone. "I don't know if you can forgive me again, for all of the pain I've put you through. There are some details that no one on the team knows, but if you can't trust me that it's better you remember on your own, you can ask them for what they do know. I won't tell them to keep anything from you."

Fighting tears, she stood up. "I'll let you get some rest, and we can talk about it again when you're home, okay? I love you."

As she left the room, he spoke her name, uncertainty and irritation in his voice. Maybe it was cowardly to pretend she hadn't heard him, but Kurt was too important to her to lose again, before he'd had the opportunity to remember some of the good times as well as the bad. She just hoped she'd made the right decision in revealing that they'd had marital issues, even if she was withholding the details.

In his shoes, she'd be furious that he was keeping information from her, but it was better he was mad at her for that than for the whole truth. If he heard about the Avery situation, or her night with Clem, without any of their happy relationship memories to offset those things, there'd be no hope for them.


	5. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:** I wrote a thing! Still not a great thing, because I'm sick and depressed and generally just not that functional lately, and I'm so sorry I haven't gotten back to the people who've reviewed/sent PMs... But at least I updated something, I guess? Hopefully I'm not driving this story into the ground and disappointing everyone, but I guess it's better that I ruin this one than Torture Without You. Argh. Anyway, I hope it's not too mediocre, and thank you for reading.

* * *

"You're good to go," the doctor said. "Your wife has your medication, and she's ready to drive you home. She's in the waiting room down the hall."

Feeling a little unsteady on his feet, Kurt thanked the man —whose name he couldn't quite recall—and began a slow walk in the direction indicated.

"I don't know, Allie. I guess I'm just…scared he won't let me back in." Jane's weary voice reached him before he got within sight of her.

Kurt found himself slowing to a stop, though he knew it was generally frowned upon to eavesdrop. In this kind of situation, he needed all the information he could get, especially when Jane was holding back things he had a right to know about.

"You gotta give him time. Remember how scared and confused you were after your memory wipe? Kurt has to be feeling just as bad."

"I know. I know." Jane sighed. "But I didn't know any of them back then. I didn't forget I was in love with Kurt."

"You really don't think he loves you now, even after this? Because we had a lot of conversations about you while you were in Europe, and he said he was already in love with you back when he was last dating _me_."

Jane laughed, a note of sorrow in the short expression of breath. "Was he drunk?"

"Very sad, and very drunk." Allie sounded amused. "I can laugh about it now, but it was kind of heart-breaking to watch at the time."

Kurt wasn't sure what to react to first—that Jane had spent time in Europe without him, which had made him sad enough to drink and talk about love, or that Jane was scared of him keeping her at a distance. The former didn't sound like him at all, but neither did getting married.

The idea that Jane was invested enough in their relationship to fear its end sent a warm glow through his chest—one that he immediately berated himself for. _If not for Jane, Mayfair might still be alive._

 _If not for Jane, Bethany might be dead,_ another part of his mind retorted, and he rested his head against the wall, stifling a groan. Why were his feelings for Jane always caught up in complications? Had there ever been a time when things between them were simple, some magical period in their history that he'd forgotten?

"I don't deserve him, Allie. Maybe this is just the universe's way of finally forcing us apart. After everything that's happened, now we have to have an encore of all the hardest times in our relationship?" Jane's voice was heavy, almost depressed.

"Okay, now, that's bullshit—and you know it. There is nothing that could keep you guys apart forever. Believe me, as someone who briefly and accidentally came between you two, I know. So take a deep breath and get ready to take your husband home, because you guys are gonna be fine…eventually."

"Thanks, Allie." There was a rustle of clothing, and Kurt imagined the two women hugging.

"You know what? I think I made a mistake waiting here. You guys don't need a third wheel right now. I'm gonna go steal my baby back from Patterson. Tell Kurt I'll call tomorrow lunchtime to see if he can handle some more toddler time."

"Try and stop him from seeing her, whether or not he can handle it," Jane said wryly. "Have a good night."

"You, too. Good luck."

Footsteps retreated, and Jane sighed softly. Kurt waited a few more seconds, shrugging off guilt, before walking the final few steps into the waiting area.

Jane rose from her seat, trepidation in her face. "Hey. You ready to go?"

"Yeah." He stopped just outside of arm's reach, the stubborn ache of betrayal in his chest making it impossible for him to reach out to her, despite the turmoil he'd just heard her express to Allie. "The doctor said you have my car keys."

"And I'm not giving them back, so don't even ask." She indicated the exit, and he started towards it, trying not to react to her proximity when she fell in beside him. "If you want to sleep in the backseat on the way home, I'll understand."

"I'll hold it together. Can't promise to stay awake for too long when I'm home, though." The amount of time he seemed to need to sleep was frustrating, but he didn't have much of a choice against his body's demands.

As they walked through the parking lot, Jane glanced over at him. "I'm sorry about earlier. I probably could have handled that better."

"That mean you've reconsidered what you're willing to tell me?" Somehow, he doubted it, but he couldn't help the pointed comment spilling out anyway.

"No. I realise it's hard for you to trust me right now, and any other questions you have, I promise to answer in full. But not about this. Not until you remember on your own." She pressed the button on the key fob in her hand, and a nearby car flashed its lights in response, the door locks disengaging.

Kurt waited until they were a few minutes into the drive home to speak again. "How come you haven't mentioned Avery?"

For a moment, Jane froze, as though the question he'd asked had shocked her. Then she shrugged the tension out of her shoulders, only a slight note of wariness in her voice. "What did you remember?"

Did Avery have something to do with what she wouldn't tell him? That was something to file away for later. Jane's reaction wasn't exactly giving him cause to put any extra trust in her. "Nothing. There's a picture in my wallet, of the four of us. Reade told me her name, and who she is to you. He said Shepherd took her from you, right after you gave birth?"

"Oh." Now Jane really did relax, giving a short, awkward laugh under her breath. "Uh, I guess I didn't want to add another complicated layer to things before you were ready. She lives with us, in the apartment, but she's staying with Zapata for a few days, since things are…the way they are. She figured the last thing you needed was a strange teenager around right now, even though you get on with Avery better than I do most of the time."

Kurt nodded, biting down on the urge to ask what Avery had to do with the secrets she was keeping. He already knew Jane wouldn't tell him, and though he wanted to interrogate the truth out of her, the slight crack in her voice when she'd told Allie she didn't think she deserved him…somehow, after hearing that, he wanted to cut her a little slack.

"I'm sorry. That Shepherd took her. That must have been a shock to find out." He closed his eyes, his headache flaring as someone in the opposite lane drove by with their car's headlights at full glare.

"At least Shepherd didn't have chance to get her hooks into Avery," Jane said. "And she didn't have to grow up with a mother like Remi. That's something I'm glad about. At least when I finally got to meet her, I wasn't trying to get her to blow things up or infiltrate government agencies."

Again, her words made him grit his teeth, especially the mention of Remi, but the sympathy that rolled over him at the same time soothed some of the hurt. He couldn't deny that no matter what Jane had done, from what he'd learned about Remi and Shepherd, they were much, much worse. Living with that had to be hell for Jane.

"How are you finding being a mom?" he asked.

"Challenging," Jane admitted. "It's hard enough trying to connect with a teenager who went her whole life thinking I abandoned her at birth, but having to stifle her freedom with a protective custody detail just makes things so much worse."

"She's in protective custody?" His mind was slow to follow.

"Roman. He'll hurt me any way he can, so we're keeping Avery extra safe."

"And she likes it about as much as you did?" Despite their complicated relationship, he couldn't help but tease Jane a little.

"Yeah, and we enjoy having to enforce it about as much as you did mine."

Despite her words, she sounded almost happy. Kurt opened his eyes to watch the wry smile on her face. "You love her."

Jane glanced over at him, surprised. "Of course. Don't you love Bethany, even though you only found out about her yesterday?"

Kurt nodded slowly. "Same thing, huh?"

"Avery isn't quite so cute, especially when she's cussing me out for telling her she can't go to the grocery store alone. But yeah, the moment I found out about her, I just felt this…connection."

Kurt realised he'd been subconsciously twisting his wedding ring. "I guess the amnesia gives us a few more things in common."

She braked for a red light, shooting a look of fragile amusement at him. "That never hurts, I guess."

He wanted to tell her he hoped they could work things out, hoped that his memories would return and erase the hurt and doubt that now lay between them. But he couldn't find the words, and as Jane reached for the radio dial, the moment was lost.

* * *

The drive back to Brooklyn hadn't been as awkward as Jane had feared, though not as easy as she'd hoped, either. As she pushed open the apartment door, she allowed herself a brief moment to imagine his memory returning at the sight of their home.

Maybe if it had been their Colorado home, something might have sparked, but Kurt had sold it to finance his travels in search of her while she'd been on the run. That avenue was closed to them now, even if Kurt had been up to the journey, and he didn't seem to be experiencing any new memories in this apartment—at least, not yet.

"Welcome home," she said softly, opening the door to the closet where they hung their jackets, then shrugging out of hers.

"Not much has changed," he said, looking around the living room and towards the kitchen.

"Does it still feel like home?" she asked, taking his jacket from him and stowing it with hers.

Kurt paused for a second, then nodded, and Jane suppressed a sigh of relief. At least there was that.

"I don't know what you want to do now. Are you hungry, or would you rather sleep?"

He shook his head. "I thought I'd need more sleep, but the air outside woke me up a little. I'll grab a sandwich or something and see how I feel."

Jane stepped into his path as he headed for the kitchen. "If the air did you some good, go sit out on the balcony. I know I can't cook as well as you can, but a sandwich, I can handle."

Her stubborn husband hesitated, then acquiesced, weariness radiating from him. "Okay. Thanks."

Unable to help herself, she brushed a light kiss against his cheek before turning away. If he reacted with discomfort to the affection, she didn't want to know.

She was halfway through pulling out ingredients for his favourite sandwich when Kurt spoke. "This is from Sarah?"

Jane turned to see him sitting on the couch, turning the pages of their wedding album. She'd set it out in case he wanted to look at it, to see the proof that they really were married, and maybe encourage his memory a little, but she'd meant to put it somewhere a little less prominent than the coffee table before she'd gotten distracted earlier.

"Oh—yeah. It was her wedding gift to us. She conspired with the photographer so we didn't get the pictures until she was ready to give us that. She said there was only one stereotypically girly thing she was good at, so she might as well use it."

Kurt gave a grunt of amusement. "Sounds like something she'd say. I never did get why she liked scrapbooking so much."

"It's not something I've ever been interested in, either, but she did a great job. I had no idea there were scissors that cut in wavy lines like that, until we were looking at that book for the first time." Jane smiled at the memory, though her heart sank a little at the small frown on Kurt's face as he looked down at the wedding pictures. The thought of him not remembering the day they'd both declared perfect was almost painful.

She quietly finished making the sandwich, leaving him to his thoughts, whatever they were. When she brought it over to him, he was shaking his head at the picture of them shoving cake into each other's mouths.

"Anything you want to ask?" Jane said, afraid to disturb his train of thought, but wanting to know what he was thinking, if he'd tell her.

He sighed, sitting back and accepting the plate from her, with thanks. "I guess when I see these pictures, I want to ask how we got there. It just seems like a few days ago that we were fighting in that motel hallway. We didn't trust each other. Half of the things we said to each other that weren't about work hurt each other somehow. I just…can't imagine what happened to change that, into _this_." He indicated the picture, his brow still furrowed with confusion.

Jane sat as close as she gauged he would allow, not wanting him to feel smothered. "It was slowly. Very slowly. We both had things we needed to get over. But we always worked well together, in the field, and that helped. And we both had life or death situations we had to come through, which meant we couldn't help but worry about each other, and finally you held out an olive branch." Just thinking about it brought a lump to her throat, and she swallowed hard, conscious of Kurt's attention on her, even as he pretended to be focusing on his meal.

"It was me who bridged the gap?" Obviously, he'd assumed it was her.

"Yeah. It had to be you. I didn't even dare to hope we'd ever be more than acquaintances to each other again, since I was the one who'd screwed everything up. I didn't blame you for not wanting to be around me. I was just keeping my head down, trying to get through the whole Sandstorm nightmare so that Nas would give me immunity, and I could get out of your life." To go where, she hadn't known, but she'd been sure there was no place for her in any of the team's lives, ever again.

When she glanced up at Kurt, his expression held conflicted pain. Her words must have touched a nerve she hadn't meant to provoke, but although she felt guilty that she'd spoken carelessly, the idea of him being hurt by the idea of her absence made her spirits rise.

"We'd just gone undercover, and we were in a situation where one of us had to get on an enemy's boat before it left the dock, and the other had to get back to the team to call for backup. I told you that you should go for backup, because you had family, friends, a baby on the way. People who would miss you. But no one would miss me if I got killed, so I should be the one to go on the boat." She grimaced, recognising a hint of Shepherd in her words. "It sounds manipulative now that I'm saying it like this, like I was trying to get you to tell me you cared, or make you feel guilty so that you'd go instead of me. But I swear, if you remembered that day, you'd know I really was just telling you why I was going to be the one putting myself in danger."

To her surprise, Kurt's expression was very much like it had been when she'd spoken those words.

"What?" she asked. "What are you thinking?"

"I, uh…" He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. "I was just wondering who went on the boat."

Jane stifled her disappointment, as the feeling that they'd been close to some kind of breakthrough faded. He wouldn't want to express his emotions to her, not now. Not when so much of their history was missing from his mind.

"You did. But only because you tricked me, and when my attention was elsewhere, you snuck off." She rolled her eyes. "So I went for backup, and we managed to get you out of there, somehow."

He didn't look surprised by her revelation, and she wondered if anything had actually come back to him. If it had, he wasn't sharing.

"But then, when we got back to the office, you told me you would miss me if something happened to me. And that even though you never thought it would happen, you'd started to consider me a friend again. So after that, things were easier between us. Still awkward at times, but that anger and pain was mostly gone."

Kurt nodded slowly, but didn't speak, and she felt compelled to fill the silence, a little unnerved by how unreadable his expression was.

"We, uh, both dated other people for a while, and I think when we saw each other trying to build something with someone else, that made us both realise we still had feelings for each other. We both got a little jealous, not that we said anything about it. You know the way we were back then."

She shrugged, knowing he'd remember the way they'd both swept it under the rug when she'd stood him up after their first kiss.

"But then, um, we had to take a polygraph test together while we were undercover. To cut a long story short, the woman in charge of things was assessing our loyalty to each other as business partners." Thinking back to the questions on that test, she couldn't help but be perplexed by her memories of Kiva Garen. "She was actually using a relationship test from O Magazine. That's how weird this woman was. Anyway, to get the information we'd gone in for, you had to say something you probably never would have, otherwise."

"What did I say?" Kurt's voice was carefully nonchalant, but she sensed his need to know what had happened, and her heart lifted. Just from hearing her clumsy retelling of the story, he was invested in how things had turned out. That gave her hope for them.

"The question was something like, 'What's the best and worst thing your partner has ever done for you?' And you said…" Jane smiled, not even needing to think to recall his words. She'd played them over in her head so many times over the years, first with wonder, then with fondness and nostalgia, despite the residual guilt at having made him believe he was Taylor Shaw. "You said that the best and worst things I'd done for you were the same. That you used to put up a lot of walls, but that I always found a way inside them."

He actually flinched, and she realised a little too late that he might not be ready to hear that from her, while her betrayal still felt so raw for him.

"I need some air," he said, standing up.

"I'm sorry. I should have realised it might be too soon to—"

Kurt cut her off gruffly. "It's okay. I asked. You answered. Not your fault."

Before she could say anything else, he went out onto the balcony and shut the door behind him, quietly but firmly.

Jane resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands, closing the wedding scrapbook and sliding it onto the lower shelf on the coffee table, mostly out of sight. Then she retreated to the bathroom to take a shower, mulling over the conversation.

They'd seemed to be making progress—not with his memory, but with their relationship—but a couple of times she'd seen him raising his defences again, as though determined not to let her in. Jane couldn't blame him for that.

 _You gotta give him time._ She remembered Allie's words from earlier, and nodded sadly at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was expecting too much, too soon, but she missed her husband—the man who'd finally let her get to know him—with every beat of her heart.


	6. Conflicting Emotions

**Author's Note:** Sorry this one is a little short. I'm trying not to push myself too hard at the moment. Thank you for reading along!

* * *

Kurt took some time to stew on the balcony, his teeth gritted. Seeing the wedding pictures had been like looking at someone else's life. He didn't think he'd seen himself so happy since the pictures taken at Taylor's fifth birthday party, and it made him wonder just who he'd become since his memory had tapered off.

Every time someone filled in a blank spot in his memory, he only got more confused and irritable. Even worse, Jane was obviously feeling the strain of his memory loss. It had been easier to act cold towards her when she'd been pushing back at him in return; easier to blame her after she'd treated him like she was just another fugitive, like he was just another cop. Even her apologies had had a hard edge back then, her defensiveness never giving way to the vulnerability within.

Now that they were married, she was showing him nothing but sympathy, understanding and gentleness. He could see the guilt still gnawing at her for what she'd done to him—had she felt bad this entire time, their entire marriage? If that was the case, what kind of marriage could it have been? Had he been holding this over her the whole time?

But no—she'd said they'd forgiven each other. That _he_ had been the one to reach out and forgive her. That she hadn't even been hoping for reconciliation, and had just been trying to keep out of his way until her job was done.

 _I didn't blame you for not wanting to be around me._

He recalled the way she'd looked earlier, when he'd thanked her for saving Allie and said he never would have expected her to die for him. Had she really been willing to give her life so easily back then?

When he reached into his own memories—which seemed so recent, yet had happened years ago—he recalled the desperation in her face when he'd overpowered her in New Jersey, and the stricken look on her face when she'd overheard him tell Zapata he didn't want to be in the same room as her.

His gut was telling him her despair had been deeper than he'd realised, which made guilt seep into his mind. But that was closely followed by anger. _She deserved to feel bad! She lied to me, hid the truth from me, worked behind my back with her ex-fiancé and didn't say a word about it to me, not even after she watched him shoot Mayfair. She may not have known she wasn't Taylor, but before her memory was wiped, she—_

His knuckles ached, and he forced himself to loosen his grip on the railing, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

Had he really confessed to her that getting inside his walls was the best and worst thing she'd ever done for him? He must have, because it felt like the truth, even though it had been too close for comfort for him to hear just now. It was one thing to occasionally think that it wasn't so bad to confide in Jane, but the fact that he'd said it aloud for her to hear, after everything she'd wrecked after gaining his trust…

The worst part was that even through the anger, the justified betrayal he felt at her actions, he still wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold on for all he was worth. Ever since she'd first come into his life, even before he'd started to entertain thoughts that she might be Taylor, there had been something between them that he couldn't deny—some indefinable, magnetic pull.

By the time he'd thought to fight it, it was too late. And while he was opening up to let her in, in a way he hadn't done for any other woman in his life… At the same time, Jane was shutting him out, carrying out her 'missions' and conspiring with Oscar behind his back. Now Mayfair was dead, and Jane's apologies and insistence that she'd been kept in the dark should have meant nothing, but he'd seen the pain in her eyes as she'd related the details of Mayfair's final moments. She'd been played—by her past self.

Groaning, Kurt dropped his head onto his hands, his fingers still curled around the railing. All of this was bad enough, but apparently these thoughts were years out of date. He'd been through all of this before, working with Jane for long enough that she'd been able to gain his trust again. If he believed her, it hadn't been because she'd been trying to endear herself to him—and he wanted so badly to believe her, because when he remembered the way she'd murmured 'I love you' each time she'd left his hospital room, his heart skipped.

His thoughts were going around in circles, and he was no closer to remembering anything. His head felt as though it was reverberating with every beat of his pulse, the fresh air not effective enough to stave off the headache that had never really left him since he'd woken into this nightmare.

He just wanted to sleep, to make the thoughts and questions and doubts cease for a little while.

Jane was nowhere in sight when he went indoors, but he heard the faint patter of the shower from the other end of the apartment. Pushing away thoughts of what her tattoos must look like under the running water—something he assumed he must have found out years ago—he took the time alone to wander through the rest of the apartment, picking up new photo frames that held unfamiliar pictures: of him and Jane in the sun, or with Bethany, or with Sarah and Sawyer, or the rest of the team.

The room he'd once let his dying father stay in was now decorated in bright, toddler-friendly colours, but the single bed was big enough for an adult, and the possessions strewn around it had a distinctly teenage look about them. This must now be the mysterious Avery's bedroom, but he was too tired and in pain to do any investigating. He also doubted Avery would be pleased if he accidentally read her diary or something.

As the shower water shut off, Kurt returned to the living room and sat down, closing his eyes. Even though this was his home, he and Jane hadn't worked out bedroom arrangements yet. He'd need to talk to her before he could sleep.

A few minutes later, Jane came back in, her hair damp and tousled. She was wearing pyjama pants and a tank top, an innocent enough outfit to lounge around the house or sleep in, but given that he'd never seen her in nightwear before, it felt a little inappropriate to look at her.

 _Stupid. You_ married _her. And you've seen her wearing far less than this on all the screens at work, let alone—_

He cleared his throat awkwardly, banishing the thought before it could take root in his exhausted mind.

As the scent of her shampoo reached him, Kurt felt the irrational urge to bury his nose in her hair and breathe deeply. Jane smelled like home to him, and the only thing that stopped him from rising from the couch was his mortification at the strength of his impulse to draw her into his arms.

"Hey," she said softly, hesitating halfway towards the kitchen. "Do you need anything?"

 _You. I hate it, but I need you._

He swallowed hard before speaking. "I think I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"Okay." She brought a glass of water and a pack of pills to him, setting them on the coffee table. "Just let me grab a couple of things out of the bedroom before you head in there. You should probably take one of these pills. They'll help with the pain, and probably make you drowsy, too."

"Thanks." He reached for the blister pack, then frowned. "Where will you be sleeping?"

"Avery's bed, for now." Jane gave him a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Later, when she comes back, I can sleep on the couch for a while if I need to."

The part of him that had reacted so strongly to her scent wanted her to sleep with him in his bed— _their_ bed—but he smothered the urge to ask. As Jane left the room, he shook his head, regretted it immediately as pain flared behind his eyes, then turned his attention back to the pills in front of him.

A couple of minutes later, Jane returned with a book and a pair of fuzzy socks, which she placed on the breakfast bar. "Okay. The bedroom's all yours."

He murmured his thanks and got to his feet, already feeling a little lightheaded from the medication.

Jane came over and brushed a kiss over his cheek, and he froze, unsure how to react. Torn between wrapping his arms around her waist or stepping back out of her reach, he did neither, just stared at her as she said, "I know you might not be too comfortable hearing it, but I'm so glad you're home." She paused, as though debating whether to say anything else, but then stepped out of his personal space. "I love you. Get some rest."

She was moving into the kitchen before he could formulate a response, but he turned to watch her, frowning.

Maybe it was the medication relaxing his inhibitions, or maybe he was just tired of bouncing her words around inside his head. Either way, he found himself speaking. "You keep saying that."

Jane turned towards him, momentarily puzzled, before realising what he meant. Her guard came up a little. "That I love you? If you'd rather I didn't say it, I can stop—"

"No," he interrupted, the word emerging stronger than he'd meant it to. Modifying his tone, he tried to explain himself. "It, uh… It reminds me that there's more to us than all the pain and betrayal."

Jane nodded, her expression conflicted. "Then…I love you, Kurt. Sweet dreams."

He hesitated, wondering if he should say it back, just to acknowledge that there was something there. The words stuck in his throat, all the negative feelings he'd been trying to suppress returning, and he could only mutter a terse, "Goodnight."

The short distance to the bedroom seemed like miles, but he somehow got to the bed and collapsed on it, the medication dulling his pain and drawing him away from the shores of consciousness.

When he woke up in the early hours of the morning, his shoes were gone, and there was a fluffy blanket draped over him. He regained consciousness enough to whisper her name, the knowledge that she'd come in to check on him making him smile, despite himself.

Then sleep pulled him under again, and he dreamed of his wife sitting in a Venetian gondola, wearing only one of his work shirts. As she spoke words he couldn't understand, her skin inexplicably glowed shades of purple, white and blue, in intricate patterns completely different to the tattoos he knew.


	7. Puzzle Pieces

**Author's Note:** The angst-fest continues! Thank you to everyone who's still reading along. I know there's a lot of retelling of canon here, but this is obviously part of Kurt regaining his memories, so bear with it. :) Next chapter is a Bethany visit followed by Kurt getting a look at the bioluminescent tattoos while he's back on the pain pills, which is obviously going to be...interesting. ;)

* * *

Jane had slept badly in Avery's bed, worried that Kurt would fall into another coma during the night—although the doctors had given no indication that that was a possibility, she'd still fretted about it. She'd gotten up at dawn, quietly checking on her husband again, before sitting in the living room with her sketchbook.

After about an hour, she'd felt the pull of sleep again, and instead of going back to bed, she'd stretched out on the couch for a nap. She was half awake, her eyes still closed, when she heard footsteps softly approaching.

Still too drowsy to bring herself to open her eyes, she registered a cool spot on her arm where Kurt's shadow blocked the sunlight. For a few seconds, he stood over her—watching her, she assumed. What must he be thinking, when he looked at her now? A couple of days ago, he'd called her a terrorist and furiously dismissed her from his presence, but according to Allie, he'd been in love with Jane for the whole time he'd been angry with her.

Above her, Kurt sighed. The sunlight began to warm her arm again as he moved away from her, towards the kitchen.

 _Oh, Kurt…_

"It's okay, you know," she said, breaking her sleep paralysis and stretching out her limbs a little.

"Huh?" he asked, still moving towards the coffee pot. Probably embarrassed that she'd been awake and aware he was watching her.

Jane sat up, repositioning cushions around her to give herself something to do. "I remember what it was like, when I got back. Loving you, but feeling so bitter and angry at how things had ended up. Hating that I couldn't trust you anymore, that what we'd had was destroyed. It's okay to feel pulled in two directions like that, but I know it's…hard to deal with."

He silently poured himself a mug of coffee, then looked around. "You want some?"

"Sure." Was he just going to ignore what she'd said?

Kurt reached for another mug without comment, and Jane swallowed the urge to ask him what he was thinking. He'd shut her out so effectively that she felt like there were miles between them now.

"Thanks," she said softly, as he carefully handed her a mug. Their hands didn't brush as he transferred it to her grip.

He sat down, still not speaking.

"How's your head?" she asked, to fill the silence.

"Not great." He grimaced, shifting out of the way of the sun's glare. It probably didn't hurt that the motion took him right over to the far side of the couch, as far away from her as he could get.

"Want me to grab you another pill?" she offered.

Kurt shook his head. "Not until after I see Bethany. I don't want her to see me…under the influence."

That made sense, given his childhood. "Allie said she'd call around noon. That's still—" she glanced at the clock—"three hours away. We can tell Allie to bring Bee around at one, so the meds will have worn off."

Kurt hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

He was being so passive, he really must be in a lot of pain—either that, or he was having trouble thinking properly. As she brought the pills from the kitchen, Jane frowned, not wanting him to hide his symptoms, but equally not wishing to seem like the stereotypical nagging wife.

"Let me know if you get too disoriented, okay?" She put down the pills on the coffee table and sat back down. "I know you hate taking time to look after yourself, but this is important."

He took the pill, chasing it with coffee, then sat back with a sigh. "I know."

Evidently, he wasn't going to address what she'd said about him feeling conflicted about her, so she switched to a less weighty topic. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, I think. Had some weird dreams at one point, though."

Remembering some of the tangled memories that had formed her own dreams when she'd first been trying to remember herself, Jane looked up. "Could they have been memories?"

He frowned into his coffee. "I don't see how. We were in Venice and your skin was glowing."

Jane almost gasped at the relief that flooded her system. This was the first time he'd recalled something from the time period he had no memory of, and it made her realise just how afraid she'd been that he'd never regain anything. "No—as weird as it sounds, that was based on memories."

"We went to Venice?"

"Twice." Jane abandoned her coffee, moving into the study to unlock the safe. Pulling out the Sandstorm file she'd stashed there last night—she'd made a promise to Reade that she wouldn't leave confidential documents out in the open—she said, "I can explain the glowing skin, too."

Once she was back on the couch, the thick paper file in her lap, she leafed through the pages until she came to the hard copy images of her bioluminescent tattoos. "I was in an accident in Nepal last year. A rock fall in a mountain pass. As it turns out, it wasn't an accident, and while I was unconscious, Roman—or someone he hired—tattooed these on me."

Kurt took the printouts, and his eyebrows lifted. He looked from the tattoos to Jane, shaking his head. "Why don't I see any of these on you now? Are they like the tattoos on your face, the CDC ones?"

"Sort of. Those were ultraviolet, but these ones are bioluminescent." Very conscious of the question that was bound to come up, Jane explained how Roman had sent the device needed to view the tattoos to Kurt, along with the coordinates to her location. "So that's how we ended up working a whole new set of tattoos. We were following a lead from one of them when the scaffold collapsed on you, and caused your coma."

After a moment, Kurt handed back the photos, shaking his head. "Can I see them, on your skin? This doesn't even seem like it should be real."

"Sure. The device that makes them glow is in the evidence locker right now, but I can get Patterson to bring it with her when she comes by, after work."

He watched her slotting the images back into their correct places in the file, and Jane could sense him putting puzzle pieces together in his mind. _Here it comes._

"Why did I need coordinates from Roman to bring the device to you? Why didn't he just send us the box here, when you got back from Nepal?"

* * *

Jane had pulled herself into a slightly defensive posture, a further clue to Kurt that something he wouldn't like had happened. Was this related to her leaving their marriage? Would she refuse to answer?

"Please, Jane. This is my past, too. I need to know."

She took a deep breath, putting the file aside. "We'd only been married for a couple of months when I had to go on the run. One of Shepherd's financial backers blamed me for Sandstorm's fall, and put out a million-dollar hit on me before he killed himself. Keaton told us that there was no way to find the bounty holder and cancel the hit, and for a million dollars, every bounty hunter in the world was going to try to take me out. So I…" Her voice cracked a little, and his heart felt as though it fractured along with it. "I, uh, ran out on you in the middle of the night. Keaton got me out of the country, and I was gone for eighteen months. No one knew where I was—not him, not even you."

"You left me _twice_?" That was the only thing he could think about. She'd left twice, and he'd just kept forgiving her? What kind of stupid, illogical hold did this woman have on him, that he'd accept being continually betrayed by her like this? Why hadn't he refused to take her back, and gone on with his life? Where was his self-respect?

"I was afraid you'd think of it like that," Jane murmured, still looking on the verge of tears.

"How else could I look at it, Jane?" His voice emerged defensive and sharp. Something uneasy hovered at the back of his mind—some memory of nauseating, intense, guilt-stricken anxiety and desperation.

 _She can never know._ Where had that thought come from? What did it relate to? Surely not this.

He focused on the issue at hand. "You said it yourself—you ran out on me in the middle of the night, only a couple of months after we were married."

"To protect you!" she protested.

"I can protect myself. And you thought you could take on bounty hunter after bounty hunter on your own? What if one of them had gotten lucky? I could have watched your back. We could have faced it together, no matter what came at us. We always had before."

"And what about Bethany?" she asked.

The question was quiet, non-accusatory, but he froze as though she'd yelled it at him. He hadn't even considered where his daughter fit into this scenario, his mind still processing the fact that she even existed. Speechless, he stared at Jane.

"She was three months old, sleeping in her crib, in the nursery we decorated for her, when the first bounty hunters crashed in through the living room window, fully armed and determined to kill me. We took them down, and for a moment there was this…awful silence, and then Bethany started to cry. And for a moment, before we rushed in to check on her, you looked at me, and the panic on your face at what could have happened to her…" Jane shook her head.

He was feeling echoes of that panic now, as she described what had happened. Armed men in their house, only a few feet from his baby daughter? What if she'd been awake and in his arms when the attackers had come in? He wouldn't have been able to move fast enough to get to his weapon. They could have shot him, and if he'd dropped Bethany, or fallen on her…

Jane was watching him sadly, as though she could read his mind. He hated that she seemed to know more about his thoughts than he did—just one more thing to resent her for.

"Keaton said he could get me out of the country, and I was prepared to go right then, to keep you both safe. I was the target, not you. I was the one who had to leave. But you wouldn't let me go. You said we'd find another way, that we'd face it together. So I waited until you fell asleep, and I called Keaton, and I left. I thought I could track the bounty holder down and force him to cancel the hit, and then I could come straight back home in a few weeks, at most. But the guy was like a ghost. I couldn't get close."

"Keaton. Why do I know that name?" Something about it was bugging him.

"Tom Carter's replacement in the CIA. Deputy Director Jake Keaton." She shook her head. "Also, the same guy who tortured me for three months in the black site."

Kurt's guilt flared at the mention of the black site. He'd repeatedly tried to get information on where they'd taken Jane—needing answers about what the hell Jane had been trying to pull by pretending to be Taylor Shaw, and whether she had any idea where Mayfair was—but they'd stonewalled him every time. As the months passed, he'd grown less and less insistent that they release Jane back to the FBI, and meanwhile, she'd been tortured daily by this Keaton guy.

" _I don't usually like to get my hands dirty, but…guess I just really wanted to know why your name was on her back."_

A flash of memory returned to him. A sneering man in a red-lit hallway, the aftermath of a firefight, bodies on the floor. His own hands around the guy's neck, choking the life out of him, while Nas Kamal tried to pull him away, insisting that it wouldn't change anything if he killed Keaton.

"I attacked him," he said slowly.

"You remember?" Jane asked. "Yeah, that was…earlier. While we were still after Shepherd. You were in Bulgaria, I think. I wasn't there, but you mentioned it a couple of times."

He nodded, rubbing his forehead as he tried to untangle strands of blocked memory, without success. "Why would the guy who tortured you try to get you out of the reach of these bounty hunters?"

"He helped us take down Shepherd, too. I guess he felt guilty for putting me through hell, when I turned out to be one of the good guys. Said he was just doing his job." She gave him a bitter, fragile smile that he sensed masked a lot of anger and pain. "Oh, and Zapata works for him now. He's her direct superior."

Kurt breathed in, then out again, trying to process it all. "I don't even know where to start with that."

"It's okay. Neither do I." She shrugged.

"But you and Zapata—you're okay?"

Jane nodded. "I don't understand why she wants to work for them. But she's been a good friend, and I don't have that many, so…" She shrugged.

Kurt tried to backtrack, attempting to leave his guilt at the torture behind. Jane had obviously forgiven him for not stopping it from happening, if she'd married him. Then again, she'd left him two months into their marriage. Maybe she'd just been waiting for an excuse to go.

And why did that thought hurt so much?

"So Keaton got you out. Where did you go?"

"I couldn't stay in one place for long. Sometimes I was following leads to find the fixer, sometimes just trying to find another place to lie low from the bounty hunters. South America, at first. Then Russia. Then I ended up in Europe. Iceland. Canada, for a couple of weeks. Then a few countries in Northern Africa. China. Then back to Europe, then Nepal. And that's where you found me." She shrugged. "I don't know how Roman was tracking me, or how he managed to figure out where the bounty holder would be. But he came up with a plan for us to take the guy down, in Venice. It was a little crazy, but we managed it. And then I came home."

"Roman had other plans for you—the tattoos. That's why he wanted the bounty off your head," Kurt said.

Jane nodded.

"What about me? Roman could track you down. Why couldn't I? Why couldn't Patterson find you?"

"I was trying to stay under the radar so I didn't get killed. I must have been good at it." She sighed. "I suspected you were trying to find me, but I didn't realise how much time and effort you were putting into it. If I'd known…maybe things would have been different."

"You made a bad call, Jane. I don't even remember that time, and even _I_ can see that." His voice was harsher than it should have been, but he didn't try to apologise for it. "If the entire CIA couldn't find the bounty holder, what chance did you have on your own?"

"I didn't know how hard it would be. Keaton said he'd continue trying to find the guy. I was pretty sure you'd get the FBI on it, too. But that night that I ran, it wasn't because I thought I could do better on my own, Kurt."

"Then why?" he demanded. "Did you want out of our marriage that badly?"

Why did he even care? It wasn't like he remembered marrying her, even _wanted_ to be married to her. But he _did_ care, and it pissed him off even more. It was like he had no control of his emotions when it came to her.

Jane flinched. "No. But I knew you'd leave everything behind, because you're too good a man to leave me to fend for myself. I knew you'd leave Bethany, and I didn't want you to miss the first year of her life, or more, because of me. I loved you too much to separate you from her. I wanted you to be able to see her learn to crawl, and walk, and talk…"

"I could have visited her," Kurt argued.

"And when the rumours started going around in bounty hunter circles that I was travelling with my husband? And my husband sometimes went back to the States to visit his baby daughter?" She leaned forward, her expression stubborn and intense. "Someone would have come up with the idea of kidnapping Bethany. Maybe killing Allie and Connor in the process. And they would have done it just to get us within their reach, so they could have a chance to kill me."

Kurt's stomach churned as he imagined his baby girl in danger, held hostage by people who would kill for money. He'd do anything to avoid bringing the horrors of his job down on Bethany. Any good father would.

And any good mother.

Jane was speaking again, and he somehow tuned in to her words, even as the realisation began to dawn on him.

"My options were so few. I could either stay, and you and Bethany would be in danger every time one of those bastards got close. I could drag you on the run with me, and hope that they didn't target you because of me. And you'd have to give up seeing your daughter for months, or years. Or there was the third option. The one I chose."

"You could have died, Jane." He still couldn't believe the risks she'd taken.

She lifted her chin defensively. "Better me than you or Bethany. If she'd gotten hurt or killed because of me, our marriage would have been over anyway. And I couldn't have lived with myself, either. I had to protect you and that little girl, even if it meant the end of everything I'd built for myself. And I can apologise for what I put you through, but I can't apologise for leaving, because I _had_ to keep you both safe. I had to."

Before he could say anything else, she stood up and left the room, without looking back. After a moment, the bathroom door clicked shut.

Kurt was left to his thoughts, which were reeling in the wake of all the new information. He sensed his past self had been falling apart the whole time Jane had been missing, and somehow, he knew he'd thrown everything into trying to find her—because he'd dealt with Taylor's disappearance the same way, as soon as he'd been old enough to try to find her on his own.

Jane's words about Bethany learning to crawl, walk and talk returned to him. He had no memory of those milestones, but at least he knew they were in his brain somewhere, hopefully ready to be accessed as soon as the swelling in his brain subsided. The idea of not having been there at all to witness those moments was agonising. If he'd gone on the run with Jane, would they have had to stay away for years? Would he have returned to try to bond with a daughter who no longer recognised him?

Jane loved Bethany like she was her own child, that much was clear. And though he could see her actions as selfish in one sense—leaving him with no idea where she was, or whether she was even alive—they were also entirely selfless in another sense. She'd uprooted herself and left her life behind, to keep him and his daughter safe. Gratitude welled up inside him at that.

After a few minutes, he heard Jane leave the bathroom. Instead of returning to the couch, she went somewhere else in the apartment. Avoiding him, and the argument she was expecting to have to pick up again.

Kurt closed his eyes, waging an inner battle with himself. Every time she added something to the pile of reasons why he couldn't trust her, and shouldn't love her, she also added something of equal or greater weight to the opposite side of the scale, where she proved her loyalty to and love for him. He was still aching at the knowledge of Taylor's death, and of Mayfair's. If not for the team's solid support of Jane, he'd doubt his gut instinct about her as a result of her manipulation, but as things stood, he found himself allowing himself to trust her words.

Maybe the pills were just impairing his judgement, but if that were the case, he couldn't bring himself to care. He got up from the couch and went in search of his wife.

She was sitting on the edge of Avery's bed, a book held loosely in her lap, but her gaze nowhere near the pages. He could sense how stressed she was even before she became aware of his presence in the doorway.

"Thank you, Jane."

She blinked up at him, her face holding a question.

"For putting Bethany first. That means a lot to me."

Surprise flitted through her gaze, but she stood up, nodding. "She's worth it."

Unable to stop himself, he drew closer, until she had to tilt back her head to look into his face. The urge to kiss her grew, and he pulled her into a tight hug, before he could decide to do anything more.

Jane wrapped her arms around him, fitting in his embrace so perfectly that he had to brush his lips over the top of her head. She trembled slightly against him, obviously emotional.

Even as part of his mind screamed that she'd betrayed him, and betrayed Mayfair, Kurt had to swallow hard to banish tears at the thought of what she'd put herself through, and at how clearly she loved him now. The pills must be messing with his head more than he'd thought.

He extricated himself gently from her arms, and stepped back, avoiding her eyes. "I'm gonna go lie down for a bit. I just…wanted to wrap up that conversation, first."

"Okay." She cleared her throat to strengthen her voice. "I'll wake you when Allie calls."

He nodded and retreated into the bedroom, already feeling as though he'd let Jane too far past his defences. It was the damn medication. It had to be.


	8. Some Practical Advice

**Author's Note:** This got longer than I expected, so the part with Kurt seeing the glowy tattoos will be in the next chapter instead. But here's some more Allie and Bethany, and the wedding video.

* * *

Kurt awoke to a dull, pounding headache and the distant sound of childish giggles, followed by the murmur of Jane's voice, indistinct through the closed door. For a moment, he smiled despite the pain, instinctively responding to the voices of the two most important people in his life.

Except that wasn't right, his brain attempted to correct him. Or it _shouldn't_ be right, yet somehow was.

His head was giving him too much pain to overthink the conflicted emotions his amnesia gave him. All he knew was that he wanted to get through this visit with Bethany without taking any medication, though his logical side told him he was being ridiculous.

After taking a moment to compose himself, he quietly opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Jane's voice didn't falter in her reading of whatever storybook she was reading to Bee from, and Bethany herself chimed in every few words, clearly knowing the story by heart already.

He stopped at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall to take in the sight before him. Jane and his daughter were sitting close together on the floor, their backs to him, Bee's blonde head resting against Jane's upper arm as she helped Jane turn each page. It was obvious that both of them were enjoying their time together, comfortable in a way only family could be.

 _I had to protect you and that little girl, even if it meant the end of everything I'd built for myself._

Kurt didn't need his memories to know that Jane loved his daughter just as fiercely as he did. Despite his conflicted thoughts about the past, the warm glow in his chest expanded so much that, for a second, he had trouble breathing.

"I love you all the way to the moon—" Jane started, reading from the book.

Bee bounced excitedly, and half yelled the rest of the sentence. "—and _back!_ "

"That's right, Bee! You're good at reading. Maybe you should do the next one."

"No! _Jane_ do it."

Jane kissed Bethany's temple, smiling. "Okay. Which book?"

That seemed to be a good moment to make his presence known. Kurt cleared his throat, and while Bethany was too busy looking through her book collection to notice, Jane glanced up, her smile growing at the sight of him.

"Hey, Bee? Look who's awake," she said, not taking her eyes from Kurt's face.

Bethany gasped, dropped the book she'd been holding, and lunged across the living room to slam into Kurt's legs. "Daddy!"

Hauling her up into his arms, he grinned at his daughter, his headache seeming insignificant in comparison to the love he felt whenever he saw her. "Hey, you. Having fun?"

Her reply was enthusiastic, but mostly incomprehensible, and without Allie to translate, he had to look to Jane for help. "You get any of that?"

"Something about a turtle?" Jane shrugged, then got to her feet at the knock on the door. "That's Allie. She went out to get us some lunch."

Kurt set Bee down on the floor. "You like turtles?"

She nodded and pulled a lifelike plastic turtle out of her pocket. "From Aunt Patsun."

"Hey, I'm back," Allie called, as Jane closed the door behind her. "Bee, you showing Daddy the gift Aunt Patterson got you?"

Time flew by, as they spent about as much time guiding Bethany's attention back to her food as they did eating. Apparently, toys and books were much more exciting than food. Jane made coffee after their meal, while Bethany became absorbed in playing with some stuffed animals.

Allie sat down on the couch beside Kurt.

"I hope you don't mind that we were already here when you woke up. Jane wanted to let you sleep, but she thought you'd be disappointed if you slept late enough that we didn't get much time together, so…"

 _Jane being thoughtful again._

"Yeah, I guess I needed more rest than I thought. I'm glad you guys are here."

"How's your head?" Allie asked, her face already holding the 'don't even try to bullshit me' expression he was more than familiar with.

"Killing me," he admitted. "But the pills are too strong for me to take around Bee."

"It's not like she's gonna remember," Allie pointed out. "What do you remember from when _you_ were a toddler? Not much, I bet."

"Yeah, well—I still would rather not." Seeing her about to protest, he cut her off. "Allie? No."

Allie sighed and nodded. "Okay. Bee needs a nap in about twenty minutes, anyway. At least things will be a little quieter then."

* * *

Predictably, Bethany screamed when Allie suggested that it might be naptime instead of playtime—screamed until her face was red and her cheeks were tear-stained. Allie sent Kurt off to the balcony, telling him that while usually she'd take his help wrangling their child into bed, his health should take priority on this occasion.

Since this was the first time Kurt could remember hearing his daughter cry—and he was a little heartbroken by the sight of her tears, despite knowing they were caused by toddler rage—he gratefully shut out the tantrum, leaning on the balcony railing and closing his eyes. His headache was vicious by this point, throbbing through his skull, and briefly he considered following Allie's advice and taking a pill. Memories of his drunken father and intoxicated mother made him recoil fast from that idea.

The muffled screams of his daughter had subsided by the time the balcony door opened and shut. Footsteps slowed behind him, and Jane softly said, "Brought you something."

He turned to find her holding a glass of water. "Jane, please don't tell me you brought me a pill. I already had to fight Allie over that one."

She shook her head and held out her hand, revealing a couple of pills of a different size and shape. "Don't worry, it's just over the counter stuff, nothing mind-altering. Probably won't make a dent, but it couldn't hurt, right?"

It probably wouldn't even take the edge off his headache, but gratitude filled him at the gesture anyway. "At this point, I'll take what I can get. Thanks."

She carefully transferred the pills from her hand to his palm, then handed over the water. "Would you mind if I went for a run while Bee is napping? The doctor told me not to leave you alone, but Allie will be around."

"Sure." He swallowed the pills, chasing them with water, then frowned at her. "You sure you should be running today? Seems like maybe you didn't get much sleep last night." _Or for the past couple of weeks._

"I didn't, but I've been neglecting the gym, too. Roman will exploit any weakness he sees in me. I need to stay fit enough to hold my own against him."

Recognising the determination in her face, and knowing nothing he said would dissuade her, Kurt nodded. "Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

* * *

When Allie gave him the all-clear to return inside, Kurt joined her on the couch, sighing. "Does she get her lungs from my side of the family, or yours?"

Allie shrugged. "My great-grandmother was an opera singer, so if I had to guess…"

Before he could say anything else, she opened a DVD case and extracted the disc, then handed him the empty box. "While Jane is out running, I thought we could work on your memories a little."

Kurt studied the picture on the front—another wedding photograph of him and Jane. "We hired a wedding videographer?" It was just one more thing on the list of things he'd never thought he'd do.

"Yup. Maybe seeing video and hearing the audio will knock something loose." Allie loaded the disc into the DVD player and cued it up, going into the chapter select menu—his wedding DVD had chapters?—and selecting the one called 'Ceremony'. "You want me to watch with you, or make myself scarce?"

"No offence, but watching the DVD of the wedding I don't remember with my ex, who I had a child with, but don't remember… That's a little awkward."

"Noted." Allie hit the 'play' button, then handed him the remote. "Bee wanted to sleep in your bed, which is just as well, because she left a huge mess in Avery's room before you woke up. I'm gonna go clean that up. Enjoy your wedding."

Kurt rested his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. The sound of the traditional wedding march, played on violins, made him open them again. As he watched the footage of himself grinning like an idiot, watching Jane walk down the aisle towards him, he frowned and rubbed his temple.

Jane looked stunning, a little shy at being the centre of attention, but very happy. As she reached his wedding day self, she blew out a relieved breath at no longer being the sole focus of attention, and his self on film reached out to squeeze her hand in reassurance. The warmth on his own face, and on hers in return, was difficult to watch, yet at the same time, he understood himself perfectly.

Patterson officiated the short, sweet ceremony—had she gotten ordained just for this?—with Reade handing over the rings and Zapata taking Jane's bouquet to free up her hands. Kurt didn't remember ever giving much thought to how he'd want his wedding to go, but had to admit that the outdoor venue, small number of attendees and simple wording of the vows worked well.

His voice was steady as he made his vows, though his eyes were a little bright with unshed tears. Jane seemed similarly affected. And then it was time for the kiss, and Jane almost threw herself into his arms as everyone around them cheered.

The couple on the screen drew back, gazing at each other for a long moment before turning to face the assembled guests. And Kurt hit the pause button, shaking his head, wondering how it was possible that he couldn't remember any of this, or how it had made him feel.

Watching it now was bittersweet. He only remembered having kissed Jane twice—once outside his apartment block, when she'd slipped free of her protective detail in order to make a move on him, and once in the locker room at work, as they'd faced the reality of her case being shut down and Jane barred from the building.

Both times, he'd thought she was Taylor Shaw. But, if he was honest, that thought had been far from his mind both times that they'd clung together for long moments, their lips coming together to say everything that their voices couldn't.

She'd betrayed him. But he'd turned a blind eye to the truth, and he had to accept that, too.

He also had to accept that watching the kiss that cemented their vows to each other filled him with a fierce longing, despite everything.

"Anything coming back?" Allie said, carrying a plastic sack of something into the kitchen, and putting it in the trash.

"No," Kurt admitted, sighing. "I wish I could remember; I just…"

"It'll come. Your brain is still healing, remember?" Allie came to stand nearby, looking at the freeze-frame on the TV. "Why'd you pause?"

Kurt wasn't quite sure how to word his answer, struggling for a moment before the words came to him. "I don't…recognise myself."

To his surprise, Allie laughed softly. "No kidding. I think it's safe to say that at least half the people at your wedding were totally shocked to see this side of you. If I hadn't already seen you at Bethany's birth, I would have been one of them."

"What happened to me? What caused all these changes?" God knew why he was asking Allie. She probably didn't know any more than he did.

"Well, if I had to guess…our daughter, for one. She mellowed you out a lot. And I guess you processed Taylor Shaw's death, and that must have lifted a huge weight, even though knowing who was responsible couldn't have been easy." She paused. "Closing the Sandstorm case was a big relief for you, too. And I know you probably don't want me to say it, but the rest was…"

"Jane," he finished for her, with a heavy sigh. "Yeah. I figured."

"It's not a bad thing, you know. To forgive someone. You just don't remember going through the forgiving process, and that's why it's jarring you so much."

"I forgave my father, and you know what happened," Kurt muttered darkly.

"You're not seriously telling me you believe your own bullshit right now, right? After seeing that wedding footage? And how good Jane is with Bee? And how much she's been trying to help you since you woke up?"

Her words made him feel a little ashamed of himself. It wasn't fair of him to compare the situation with Bill Weller to his relationship with Jane.

Allie sat beside him, frowning. "Kurt, you are, without exception, _the_ most stubborn man I have ever met. Do you even remember that Jane started making plans to move to California once the Sandstorm case was done, because you wouldn't tell her you wanted her to stay?"

A memory seized his attention, Jane sitting opposite him on a plane.

" _You should go somewhere fun."_

" _You think I should go?"_

" _You didn't choose this life, Jane. The team will miss you, but it's not fair to keep you here."_

" _I hear California's pretty nice."_

Along with the memory of Jane's sad smile came a sense of longing and distant despair, feelings he struggled to set aside in the present moment. He'd almost lost her by telling her to leave?

"I didn't until you said it, but I remember that now," he told Allie distractedly.

"Then maybe you'll bear that in mind for the future. You almost lost her by pushing her away. Things happened after that to separate you for a while, things you had less control over, but with this situation being like it is…you could just as easily lose her again. She loves you, but if she gets it into her head that you'd be happier or safer without her..." Allie shrugged. "I know you need time, but bear in mind that that version of you"—she gestured to the paused image of him grinning on the TV—"only happened because you pulled your head out of your ass and forgave her."

She left Kurt staring at the TV, still struggling to shake off the heavy emotions his recovered memory had left him with.

A couple of minutes later, Jane re-entered the apartment, breathless and obviously riding the endorphins generated by her run. "Hey." The smile she gave him only intensified the longing in his chest.

He struggled to return her smile. "Good run?"

"Yeah, I needed the exercise." She glanced at the TV screen. "Our wedding video? Did it bring up any memories?"

"Not so far." He bit down on the urge to apologise for that. "Allie said something that made me remember us on a plane, though. You talking about moving to California."

"That was on the way to DC. Just before we stopped Shepherd." Surprising him, Jane smiled. "You asked me not to go a few hours later, right before you passed out from blood loss from a leg wound. That was the first time you told me you loved me."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to react to the knowledge. Jane saved him from having to respond by stepping back. "I'm gonna grab a shower. See you in a few."

Alone once more, Kurt closed his eyes. Why was it that he couldn't remember the good parts? Would he ever regain any memories of his happiness with Jane?

Confessing his love for her as he was passing out from blood loss wasn't exactly the most romantic gesture, but it sounded a lot more like him than anything he'd seen on the wedding video.


	9. Instincts

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who's still reading along! You guys rock. And I...have postponed the Kurt-seeing-Jane's-glowy-tattoos scene for yet another chapter, because I needed to have Kurt work through a few things in his mind before we get there (because he wasn't quite ready to get romantic with Jane yet). I'm sorry for dragging things out! There's nothing else I can put in to distract them from it now, so I'm a hundred percent sure next chapter will be the glowy one.

* * *

Their visitors only stayed for a couple more hours after Bethany woke up, Allie explaining that she'd wanted to take a little more time off work, but they'd had an emergency in her department, and she'd been lucky to get the couple of days she'd managed to take. She promised to return with Bee in a few weeks, when things calmed down.

Kurt said goodbye to his crestfallen daughter, drying her tears and making her laugh with the natural parenting instinct he'd always seemed to have. Jane watched with a small smile, marvelling at how well her husband still interacted with his child, even without remembering their shared past.

"Kiss for Jaaaaaane!" Bee leaned out of Kurt's arms, dangling precariously in midair between her father and Jane.

Before she could disrupt Kurt's centre of gravity, Jane stepped close enough that Bee could leave a wet kiss on her chin, laughing. "Don't forget to give Connor a big hug from me, okay?"

"Okay!" her stepdaughter agreed. "Love you!"

"Love you too." She kissed Bethany's forehead, not realising how close it would bring her to Kurt until she pulled back to find him within kissing distance, too. Flustered, she moved back, avoiding Kurt's gaze as though they'd never been married at all.

Her heart ached at how much things had regressed between them. _I miss you, Kurt._

Allie distracted Jane with a hug, murmuring in her ear, "Good luck. Call me if you need to talk."

"Thanks for everything, Allie. I mean it."

A couple more minutes of goodbyes later, Kurt closed the apartment door and sighed, discreetly wiping a tear from his eye. Jane gave him a second, pretending not to see how emotional he was at having to watch his daughter leave, before picking up his pain meds.

"Kurt?"

He turned, eyebrows rising in a silent question, and she gently lobbed the package of pills in his direction. His reaction time was a little slower than normal, but he still managed to catch them, looking down at the label with a slight smile.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said quietly, and left him to his thoughts for a few minutes.

When she returned from the bathroom, feeling a little more composed after the way she'd accidentally invaded his space, Kurt was standing by the French windows leading outside, his body tense.

Jane bit down on the urge to suggest he should sit down, or _lie_ down. He probably thought their marriage consisted of her nagging him to take care of himself, and though she was concerned for him, she didn't want to keep adding to that perception.

"Patterson and Zapata are dropping by in about two hours," she told him, suddenly recalling the text message she'd gotten during her run. "They won't stay long, but they just want to check on you. Reade wanted to come by, too, but some Assistant Director stuff came up. As for Rich…I think Patterson talked him out of coming by, for now. We figured you might need some more time to adjust to him being part of the team before you have him come by."

Kurt nodded, finally sitting down on the couch. Jane felt herself relaxing a little, relieved that he was resting.

Jane sat down on the opposite end of the couch, picking up her sketchbook and sliding a pencil out of the package she kept on the lower shelf of the coffee table. She wasn't feeling particularly inspired to draw, but she wanted something to occupy herself while she waited for some kind of cue from Kurt.

She was halfway through a small sketch of a turtle—not her best work, since she was drawing from her memory of Bethany's toy, not using a reference image—when she sensed his eyes on her. Glancing up, she gave him a quick smile. "Feeling any better?"

"Pills kicked in." He was much more relaxed, his voice a little lazy. "I think I've had enough sleep, though. Should be able to stay conscious this time."

"Well, if you need to pass out, let me know. I'll let you have the whole couch to stretch out on." Jane darkened the area beneath the turtle's flipper, wishing for the millionth time that things weren't so awkward between them.

"Mmm-hmm."

For a few moments, he was quiet, his eyes closed. Jane was almost convinced he'd fallen asleep when he shifted position, taking a deeper breath.

"I feel like I should be asking more questions. About the past."

"If you need a little more time to process before getting any new information, that's okay." Jane set down her pencil and gave him her full attention.

"I already got two memories back today, from talking to you and Allie. Attacking Keaton, and talking to you about moving away." He opened his eyes, focusing on her with unexpected intensity. "Tell me about some of the good times. Not the wedding, since I guess that part of my memory is gone for now. But…other things."

Jane hesitated for a moment, thinking. If seeing Allie and Bethany hadn't triggered anything, he might not obtain any new memories from hearing about Bethany's birth. He hadn't remembered anything when she'd told him she'd left Colorado, either, yet he'd dreamed of her new tattoos and Venice.

If she was honest with herself, she was afraid to trigger any memories that might spark associations leading to Avery's supposed death. Maybe it was selfish, but if he was going to remember anything, she wanted it to be closer to the time they'd first become a couple.

She recounted a couple of small moments from the first few weeks of their relationship, which he listened to with interest, but not even a flicker of recognition. Jane decided to skip ahead a little.

A memory came back to her, making her smile. "We took a week off work, just after Bethany was born, to go house-hunting in Denver. There was this real estate agent who showed us a few different properties her company was selling, and she kept looking at my tattoos like she thought I was about to pull a knife on her at any moment. You were getting kind of pissed off about it, but a couple of the houses were great, so we wanted to keep on her good side. She showed us four places, I think, but between the third and fourth, when we were following her car in our rental, we decided that none of them were as good as the one we'd seen the previous day, so if the one we were on the way to wasn't great, we didn't have to take her passive-aggressive comments anymore."

Kurt's brow was slightly furrowed, but Jane wasn't sure if it was from pain, or because he was chasing the memory. "Go on."

"So we walked into the fourth place, and we knew immediately that it wasn't for us. We looked at each other to check neither of us liked it, and then you gave me this wink that made me wonder what the hell you were planning. And then you started talking about how much you loved the place, and how there was just enough room in the driveway for the whole cult to park their motorcycles, and how I could set up my altar in the dining room, maybe keep a couple of goats in the backyard so there'd always be a fresh sacrifice on hand if we needed it…"

Kurt was laughing and nodding by the time she trailed off, and as Jane realised he really did remember, her heart soared.

"She started talking about how one of the upstairs rooms would make a great nursery," he continued, a little hesitantly, "and you turned around and told her you were thinking more along the lines of a kinky dungeon for your paying clients, because that would help us make the mortgage payments."

Jane covered her face with her hands. "Oh, god, _I_ forgot I said that…"

Kurt grinned over at her, a trace of his old mischief back in his face. "Just so we're clear, we don't actually own a house in Denver with a kinky dungeon in it, right?"

"Sorry. The real estate agent suddenly remembered a prior engagement, so we lost out on that one." She smiled over at him. "I'm glad you remembered something fun."

"Yeah," he said quietly, a trace of affection in his eyes. "Me too."

* * *

Kurt was determined to stay awake until after Patterson and Zapata's visit, so he spent a couple of hours going through the Sandstorm file, concentrating on the first few months of his memory loss. He told Jane it was because he wanted to put things in chronological order, but truthfully he was searching for more understanding about the shift in their relationship, feeling more than ever that if he was ever going to regain his memories, his history with Jane should be the thread he followed.

She sat nearby with her sketchbook, telling him to ask her if any questions came up, as he pored over paperwork completed by Jane, Nas, Patterson, plus Kurt himself. As she put the finishing touches to the drawing of Bethany's turtle, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, marvelling at how relaxed and at home she was here, how much more comfortable in her own skin she was these days.

 _Just focus on the file, Weller._

The first case after he'd lost his memory, Jane had gone AWOL and had later shown up, distressed, to divulge that she'd failed to kill a man to pass Shepherd's loyalty test. He read through her accounts of that day twice, as well as his own account of how he'd taken a shaken Jane out into the field at Nas' insistence, only to have her almost be shot during a pursuit of a suspect. After the tattoo case they'd been working had come to a close, Jane had gone back to Sandstorm, uncertain of whether she would come back alive. Roman had covered for his sister in that instance, but Jane hadn't known that when she'd headed off to potentially be executed.

The next report contained details of how Jane had fought a suspect without backup, then been temporarily stunned by a flashbang while the suspect had fled. Later in the file was his own account of how Jane had put down her gun and emerged from cover to pacify a fifteen-year-old girl who'd been traumatised and shooting at their team. The risk she'd taken made his gut clench.

Next, he read through accounts of the case where Allie had been shot, including Jane's report of the first aid she'd applied to Allie's thigh wound, how she'd defied his wishes to uncuff the dying ex-mob boss they'd had in custody so he could help them fight, and how the suspect—a friend of Allie's—had sacrificed his life so that Jane could attempt to get Allie to safety. As it always had been, Jane's written style was sparse and matter-of-fact, and this particular report didn't divulge how close she'd been to death, as Allie had described to Kurt.

He put the report down and closed his eyes, sighing. Why was he expecting to find clues about his relationship in work documents? That, more than anything, should have clued him in that he had been hit in the head too hard.

"Here."

Somehow, while he'd been concentrating, he'd failed to notice that Jane had gone into the kitchen to make coffee. He gratefully took the mug from her with mumbled thanks.

"Making any headway?" Jane's voice was sympathetic.

"Gotten through a whole three cases." He opened his eyes to watch her. "You could have died as a result of every one of them."

She shrugged, frowning as she settled herself back into her seat. "So could we all, right? It's the risk we take every time we go out into the field."

"So you didn't throw yourself into danger at every opportunity, because you didn't feel like your life was worth anything?" The suspicion left his mouth even before his brain had fully processed it.

Jane fidgeted. "Maybe a little. Sometimes I didn't have a choice, but sometimes I guess I was a little reckless. But I already had enough to feel guilty for. Remi, and Mayfair, and Oscar. Lying to you about remembering fishing with you as a kid. Holding back and protecting myself while everything else fell apart would have only made everything worse, and if I'd died, at least it would have been for a good cause."

Kurt couldn't speak, staring down at Jane's neat signature on the page and shaking his head a little. He still couldn't remember anything from back then, but reading the reports had brought on a sense of helplessness that skirted the edges of protectiveness, anger and fear. Was that how he'd felt at the time?

"I don't know if it hurts or helps to know this, but even though things weren't great between us back then, you always had my back where it counted. I'm guessing part of what you're saying is because of how I failed that loyalty test, and if Shepherd had found out, she probably would have killed me?"

He nodded. "From reading this, you were at real risk of being executed that night. But you went anyway."

"You told me you'd talk to Pellington, try to pull me out of the mission. You were still so mad and hurt about everything, but you didn't want me taking that risk. I went anyway, because I would have done anything to avoid going back to the black site, and at least if I'd died trying to find out Sandstorm's plans, it would have been some kind of redemption. But you tried to talk me out of it. That meant a lot to me." As though sensing how uncomfortable her words made him, she gave him a sad smile. "Really, Kurt, it's okay. Water under the bridge. So much has happened since then, it doesn't even matter anymore."

"It does to me," he snapped, his response much stronger than he'd meant it to be.

"I know. I'm sorry, I worded that wrong." After a brief hesitation, she added, "You told me something that night, something that meant a lot to me, that's stuck with me even till this day. You said, 'You know who you are, and what you're capable of. Trust your own instincts.' I…" Jane shrugged. "I figured maybe you might need to hear the same thing, even though the situation is a little different. Not understanding who you are anymore is…hard to deal with."

Kurt nodded, turning over the words in his mind as Jane sipped her coffee, then set it aside and picked up her pencil again, as though taking an unspoken cue from him that the conversation was over.

Trust his own instincts? What _were_ his instincts right now?

To protect Jane. To love her. To let her help him through this.

No matter how much he fought against it, knowing he should logically despise Jane for everything she and her family had done to him, he always kept coming back to those core impulses. His brain insisted that he couldn't trust the way he felt about her. But then…

He thought about the version of himself on his wedding video, happier than he'd ever seen himself. Obviously, he'd stopped being at war with his instincts at some point, or he could never have married Jane. Maybe he needed to make a leap of faith, in order to get back there.


	10. Tingles

**Author's Note:** Yay! Finally got to the glowiness! Thank you to everyone who's been leaving such kind comments recently. You're really making me smile, and I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

Zapata and Patterson's visit only lasted around thirty minutes, which Kurt felt guiltily relieved about. He and Zapata spent a while discussing the sports developments of the years he was missing, which was a much-needed break from processing the past.

While he was sure Patterson and Jane were out of earshot, he turned to Tasha and said, "You were the one protesting Jane's return to the team more than any of us, back before my memory cuts out. But you were Jane's maid of honour at our wedding. What changed?"

Zapata gave a small smile. "Tough question. It was gradual, I guess. She just kept throwing herself into danger, even when she could have stepped back and let someone else do it."

Kurt couldn't help a wry smile in return, thinking back to his discussion with Jane earlier.

"And she was still… _Jane_ , you know? The Jane we knew, even though she made some bad choices with Oscar. She saved the life of Keaton's daughter—Keaton's the guy who tortured her—when she could have just pretended she wasn't in a position to help. She has a good heart. And I think, if Mayfair had lived, she would have seen that."

Nodding slowly, Kurt leaned back in his seat. "Thanks." _Mayfair. It always comes back to Mayfair._

"I still miss her. We all do. But it hurts much less now than it did back then." Zapata looked down at her hands, then back up at him. "You holding up okay?"

"Yeah. Just need some time, I guess. And I could use a few more memories." He sighed. "How about you? You're _working_ for Keaton now?"

She shifted in her seat. "Yeah, I, uh…I guess after you and Jane and Patterson left, and Reade stepped up to your old job, there wasn't much left at the FBI for me. And Keaton was actively looking to recruit me, said I'd be a terrific asset. So…I went."

 _Think Mayfair would approve of that, after all the things she did to try to protect Jane from Carter?_

He bit down on the question, still unsure whether he had the whole picture where it came to Zapata's CIA work. He couldn't deny that sometimes she'd pushed the limits as an FBI agent, chafing at the rules. Maybe the CIA was a better fit for her. But the idea of her torturing people, as her boss had tortured Jane, left a bad taste in his mouth.

"It's okay, you can say it. You think I made a bad call." Zapata laughed, a little bitterly. "Me too, sometimes. And Reade didn't talk to me for a year after I left. I'm surprised Jane hasn't cut me out entirely. I think she was so lonely when she was on the run that she wants to keep as many friends as she can get. But now we're all back together, in this taskforce? It's made me remember that we're a family. A weird, dysfunctional family, but isn't that what most families are like anyway?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I know for sure that mine is."

Patterson and Jane joined them. "What are you guys talking about?" Patterson asked.

"The taskforce, and how great we all are."

Patterson smiled. "We are. As much fun as making tons of money from _Wizardville_ was, I'm happy to be back in the FBI lab. Even if I do have to share it with Rich."

"That's something I still can't come to terms with. Rich Dotcom working for the FBI." Kurt shook his head.

"I know, right?" Patterson frowned. "I keep looking at it all and wondering if it was part of Hirst's master plan, and Rich is running some kind of evil long con that's all going to be revealed at some point later. But, honestly? I don't think he has the patience. He's more of an instant gratification guy. And I am _so_ glad he's not here to hear me say that."

Zapata snickered. "He's still patiently waiting for Kurt and Jane to agree to a threesome with him, though."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Kurt asked, torn between amusement and annoyance.

"Did you get to the part in the Sandstorm file where you went undercover as his husband?" Patterson asked.

"Husband? I thought it was as his hired 'escort' for the evening?" Zapata said.

"I think it was both," Jane failed to clarify.

"Wait, what?" Kurt searched the three women's faces, looking for some trace of a lie. Despite all three of them looking incredibly entertained at his reaction, none of them seemed to be trying to con him into believing a lie. "Okay, I think we can put that on the list of memories I don't want to get back anytime soon."

Kurt dimly recalled a quote that started with the words,'truth is stranger than fiction'. That definitely seemed to be the case with his life.

After Patterson and Zapata left, Jane held up the tattoo-revealing device Patterson had left with them. "We have this now, but I think you should rest before we use it. You're more likely to remember something if your brain isn't exhausted."

"I look that bad, huh?" he asked, reading between the lines.

"Like you've pushed yourself a little too far when you're still recovering from head trauma? Yeah. Sorry."

He couldn't deny that his wife was right—he had been pushing himself, out of pure stubbornness. "You win. I'll go take a nap, but on one condition: you wake me up within a couple of hours. Don't just let me sleep because you think I need it."

A protest seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, but she nodded. "Okay. A couple of hours, max. You'll need more pain pills by then, anyway."

* * *

It seemed like it had only been a few moments since he'd drifted off, but now he was waking up again. Disoriented, he tried to remember how to move and open his eyes, conscious only of his headache.

A warm, gentle touch skimmed over his cheek, followed by a soft kiss to his forehead.

 _Jane._ He smiled a little, a wave of affection washing over him. He was too sleepy to worry about anything else; she was there with him, and that was what mattered.

"That's one way to wake me up," he mumbled, blinking up at her.

Jane chuckled, looking a little embarrassed as she leaned back. "I, uh, actually thought you were still asleep. Sorry."

In the dimness of the bedroom, with the only light coming from out in the hallway, the sight of her profile tugged on the edge of a memory. But then she turned her head, and the moment was gone, leaving him wondering what he'd been about to remember.

He stretched and sat up, focusing on the task in order to give them both a respite from the personal moment. "Headache doesn't seem as bad as it was."

"That's great." She brushed a hand over his arm, then stood up. "You hungry? I'll make us some dinner."

An hour later, when they'd eaten and Kurt's pills had had time to work, he picked up the thin metal device Patterson had brought over. It looked as though it were made of steel, and was shaped almost like a cat's head. _Weird gadget._ "So, what do we do with this?"

Jane leaned over and pressed her thumb to the other side of it, and he did a double-take as the familiar image of her bird tattoo spread over the surface. "It needs both of us to work it, but hang on. I'll have to strip down a little so you can see more of the tattoos."

He wasn't sure how he should react to that. Her words were spoken matter-of-factly, but her body language was less sure. "Okay."

"Could you dim the lights down a little? It makes the tattoos easier to see. I'll only be a minute."

She'd left the room before he could say anything else, and Kurt busied himself doing what she'd asked, trying not to give his imagination free rein. Dimming the lights made things seem more intimate, and despite the reservations that still remained in his mind, he couldn't help but anticipate seeing more of Jane's body.

 _This is just about the tattoos_.

Funny how neither his mind nor his body was convinced by that thought.

He was sitting on one of the breakfast bar stools, turning the device over in his fingers and trying to ignore his sudden nerves, when Jane returned. She was wearing only a black sports bra and pair of shorts, her feet bare. He'd seen her work out in the FBI gym wearing about the same amount, but that hadn't been here, in his apartment— _their_ apartment—with the lights turned down low and his ring on her finger. Her ring on his.

 _God, she's beautiful._

"Okay," Jane said, her smile a little nervous. She halted a couple of feet from him, and he slid off the stool, putting even less distance between them. "I just wanted to say that…there's no pressure here. To remember anything. I know it's not as simple as just…wanting it to happen."

Why did everything she was saying make him think of sex?

He nodded acknowledgement of her words, cleared his throat, then held out the device. The bird tattoo, which had appeared when they'd both touched it, had now faded away again. "I think it stopped working."

She leaned closer to look, and nodded. "Let me just…" She applied her thumbprint to the surface again, and the bird design reappeared, a faint electronic noise and subtle vibration through the metal signifying that it had reactivated. "That should be it. Now you just hold the concave part against my neck. I mean, I could do it, but you did it the first time, in Nepal, so it might trigger something if you do it again."

"Here goes."

Jane held still as he stepped closer. For a split second he was distracted by the way she gazed up at him, the pull of attraction he always felt when she concentrated so intently on his face. She gave a light gasp as he pressed the curve of the device against her neck, but before his brain could short-circuit entirely, her skin began to glow—first her neck, chest and down her arms, then the expanse of bared skin at her midriff, then all the way down to her ankles.

Seeing the images in the tattoo files was one thing, but watching the bioluminescence activate in real time was incredible. He stepped back to get a better look at the overall picture, removing the device from her neck in the process, and frowned as the tattoos faded within a couple of seconds.

"Want me to—?" Jane asked, reaching out for the device.

He shook his head, moving closer again and reapplying the metal to the bird tattoo. Again, she caught her breath, and again, the bioluminescent glow swept in intricate designs across her skin.

A memory flared into life—Jane with long hair, urgently stripping down to her white sports bra to reveal yet more tattoos, staring down at herself, stunned. His own shock and relief that she was safe came back to him, along with a darker feeling of guilt at the back of his mind, pushed away for the moment, but still present.

"I remember us doing this," he said slowly.

Jane smiled a little at his words, but the expression didn't stay on her face for long. "I don't think either of us knew what to think about it. I was so happy to see you, but to have all of these new puzzles when we thought it was over… And Patterson and Zapata and Reade were missing…and you—you just looked so sad…"

"I was happy to have found you. I remember that much." Now that the initial surprise had worn off at how strongly her skin glowed, and the memory of Nepal had faded, he was once again becoming conscious of the fact that Jane was standing before him, half naked, her focus resting entirely upon him.

"Did you remember how we ended up in Venice?" she asked.

He searched his memory, coming up with nothing. "No."

"Check behind my left ear."

That made sense. He would have put that together if his brain were at full capacity. "Where the first tattoo we solved is."

She brushed her hair back from her ear as he moved around behind her, careful to keep the device pressed to her neck. He had to lean in closer to read the glowing text there, over the Chinese characters that were still faintly visible beneath the bioluminescence.

"Not causeless is this journey into the Abyss." As he spoke, a shiver ran through her, goosebumps rising on her skin. He knew without asking that she wasn't cold, remembered the same small ripple running through her the first time he'd looked for this tattoo.

He remembered the way he'd stepped away, running a search on his phone to find the origins of the quote, in order to distract himself from her reaction. This time, he didn't need to search. "Dante's Inferno, seven-ten. And I guess that's when I proposed to you in Venice, though I don't remember that part."

She turned to face him, sliding her fingers over his where he held the device to her neck. "It's okay. Don't be too hard on yourself. You've already remembered more than I thought you would."

He nodded, knowing he should be stepping back, re-establishing distance between them and letting the tattoos fade. Instead, he asked, "What does it feel like? When they light up?"

"It just tingles a little, around my neck and shoulder. Patterson says it's a very mild electrical current." Her voice was quiet, her smile almost shy, as though she sensed the way his attention had changed from the past back to the present. To her.

"I know you didn't choose these tattoos, any more than you chose the first set. But they look great on you." And he wanted to kiss every single one of them. He probably _had_ kissed them all, and he just couldn't remember.

"Thank you," Jane said softly. "Did you want to take a closer look at any of them, or should we turn this thing off?"

He wished a particular tattoo would spark the beginnings of a memory, so he had an excuse to examine it in more detail.

" _If you want my comprehensive analysis, I will require full nudes."_

Kurt scowled, suddenly irritated beyond all measure. "Did Rich Dotcom ask you for nude photos? While I was sitting right there, listening?"

Jane blinked, confused for a split second. Then amusement spilled onto her face, and she ducked her head, laughing. "Yeah, he did. And you're surprised by this?"

He sighed. "Not surprised. Pissed off."

"Yeah, you were back then, too." She lifted her head again, laughter still in her eyes. "It's good to know that some things don't change, right?"

 _Like me loving you?_

"No. Some things haven't changed. No matter how much I wanted them to."

A tiny frown appeared between Jane's eyebrows as she searched his expression. "Like what?"

Maybe it was the medication, or maybe he was just tired of obsessing over everything. All he knew was that Zapata was right. Jane was still Jane, no matter what she'd done. And somewhere in the mists of his missing memories, he'd forgiven her. He'd married her. And he'd never stopped loving her, not even at the knowledge that she had been a terrorist.

 _Screw it._

He finally closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers for a long, charged moment, then drawing back, waiting for her reaction.

"Kurt…" The surprise and joy in her face stole his breath, nudging at a memory he couldn't quite access. Then she reached up to pull him back down to her, her kiss familiar and loving, but with an edge of heat that made him swallow a groan.

He pulled her closer, the warmth of her bare waist against his hands making his heart skip. She'd always felt as though she belonged in his arms, whether she was clinging to him in the aftermath of an explosion, or pressing against him outside his apartment block, back when she'd first made a move on him. Now, he poured everything he had into kissing her, needing to forget every confusing complication of their relationship.

All he wanted was to lose himself in her—damn the past, and damn the future. His arousal surged as she stroked her fingers across his neck, his cock beginning to harden, and before he could decide what to do about it, Jane was arching against him, leaving no doubt that she'd already noticed.

Every last coherent thought disappeared, leaving nothing but lust in its place, and he slid his hands down to her ass, needing her closer. Her kisses made his head spin, her scent still felt like home to him, and he ached to rediscover everything he couldn't remember doing with her.

Jane gently pushed on his chest, a signal for them to come up for air, and he reluctantly pulled back, his pulse pounding.

"I think we should slow down, Kurt."

Her words were apologetic, her face regretful, but the longing he saw in her eyes contradicted what she was saying. Only that stopped him from pulling out of her arms entirely, the spike of hurt he felt at the rejection tempered by her obvious desire.

"Tell me you don't mean that."

She gave him a sad smile. "If you weren't on these pills, I would drag you to bed right now. I've missed you so much, Kurt."

He frowned down at her, his mind slow to follow her logic. "Why are the pills a deal-breaker?"

"For the same reason you wouldn't take them around Bethany. They're strong meds, and they have an effect on your mind as well as your pain levels." She sighed. "I don't want you to regret this in the morning."

"You really think I would?"

Jane stroked his jaw tenderly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't already blamed the medication for other things you've said to me, or thought about me."

About to deny it, he recalled the moment that morning, when he'd almost kissed her after their conversation about her protecting Bethany. He'd retreated to their bedroom to lie down, certain the pills were screwing with his mind.

Reading the answer on his face, Jane nodded, gently extricating herself from his embrace. "We can pick this up again when you're off the meds, when we're both sure it's what you really want."

He nodded, turning away to preserve a little dignity. His pride wasn't as wounded as it could have been, but it wasn't entirely unscathed.

For a moment, Jane was quiet. Then she spoke his name, her voice closer than he'd expected.

He turned back to her, curious to figure out why she'd moved closer. Before he could fully register just how near she was, she was kissing him again, cupping his face in both hands as her lips slid across his.

Kurt had barely begun to kiss her back when she moved away, smiling. "Sorry. I just…didn't want to leave it there."

Then she was gone, leaving him wondering what could have happened if he hadn't taken more pills tonight.

 _Aside from a killer headache?_

He sat down on the couch, sighing. As much as his thwarted libido hated to admit it, Jane had a point. He didn't exactly have the tightest grip on his impulses while he was on these meds. If he'd slept with Jane tonight, he probably would have had regrets in the morning—a residual sense that he'd betrayed Mayfair, or else feeling as though Jane had manipulated him somehow.

That wasn't something either of them needed.

At least he had a few more snippets of memory to show for his sexual frustration. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd had before, and it gave him hope that he'd regain more memories in the days to come.

The guilt and heaviness he'd recalled himself feeling during his Nepal memories bothered him. It had been the same while Jane had told him about her time on the run from the bounty hunters this morning—the same kind of soul-draining guilt that he associated with Taylor's death.

The context was different, he was sure of that. And the thought that had come back to him—that Jane could never know the truth—what had that been about? Did she know the truth now, or was this a secret he'd been hiding from his wife right up until his head injury?

He wanted to ask Jane if there was something he should feel such crushing guilt about, but at the same time, he was conscious of her worries that their relationship might not survive the fragile state it was now in. If she didn't know he'd been hiding something from her, and he told her he suspected that was the case, would it further destabilise their marriage?

He'd keep quiet about what he was beginning to remember until he had more context for it. No matter what he thought about Jane's actions under Oscar's guidance, Kurt was certain now that he didn't want to lose her.


	11. Apologies

**Author's Note:** And now we're regressing again, because Kurt is his own worst enemy (not that we can really blame him for grieving for Mayfair and being upset about the events that led to her death). But there's some angsty fluff in here, too. :) And I'm really happy everyone enjoyed the not-quite-smut. Not long now until the full smut scene!

* * *

Once more, Jane hadn't slept well. Had she made the right decision in turning down Kurt's advances the night before? Since the coma, he was sometimes so bitter and angry about her actions with Oscar. She'd forgotten just how determined he'd been to push her away after the black site, and how much it had hurt her.

Yet getting a few memories back was already having an effect on his attitude towards her. She hadn't dreamed that he'd want to be physically intimate so soon, but the medication was mellowing him out more than she'd anticipated. She'd wanted to give in, to throw caution aside and see if their second 'first time' for him would be as full of discovery and wonder as the one they'd shared years ago.

Only her fear that he'd hate himself afterwards had stopped her, and she knew the rejection had wounded his pride. _Better that than to take advantage too soon._

Her instincts proved right. After breakfast that morning, Kurt awkwardly approached her as she swept crumbs off the kitchen counter.

"I just wanted to say…thank you. For stopping me last night. I…" He sighed. "I wasn't in control, and I'm sorry I put you in that position."

She smiled up at him, wishing there was a way she could make him feel less embarrassed. "It's fine, Kurt. Really. I understand."

He nodded, still very clearly uncomfortable, and turned away.

What was going on in his mind? _I'm sorry I put you in that position._ Did he think she'd stopped him because she no longer desired him? Was that the kind of marriage he thought they had?

Jane refused to let a potential misunderstanding interfere with his recovery—or their relationship. _Not this time._

"Just so we're on the same page, if you _had_ wanted to keep going last night, I would have been okay with that."

He turned, the ghost of a smile on his face, and raised an eyebrow. "Just okay? Must have lost my touch."

Jane grinned down at the coffee pot. "Trust me, you haven't."

He hesitated, then shook his head and let the subject drop.

Once Kurt had settled down with the Sandstorm file and more coffee, he asked, "You said the other day that we saw other people for a while, before we ended up together. Who'd you date?"

 _Feeling a little possessive this morning, honey?_

She took a seat at the dining table, keeping enough distance that he wouldn't feel like she was pressuring him to reconsider last night. "No one you'd remember. I'd scared him off within a month, anyway."

He frowned. "Scared him off?"

"We kind of…got kidnapped from his house and held hostage, by people trying to get hold of his father's fortune. He wasn't rich, but his estranged father was."

"Why would that be your fault?"

Jane attempted to find the right words to describe what had happened. "The way I handled the situation was a little too much for him, I guess."

The frown deepened. "Strategising, finding weak spots, fighting your way out?"

"Yeah." Jane shrugged. It didn't hurt anymore when she thought of Oliver's rejection, but trying to date him had definitely taught her a few things. "I think he found it intimidating."

Kurt snorted. "Sounds like he was an idiot."

"No, it was my fault. He was looking for a normal woman, and I tried to fit into that mould, but then we were in danger, and I snapped right back to being…"

"You." His eyes were warm. "Jane, you never needed to be normal."

 _I love you, too._

She cleared her throat, feeling inexplicably shy. "I know. But you looked like you'd moved on, and I wanted to do the same, so I went for the first guy who showed an interest."

Kurt settled back in his seat, watching her. "I'm guessing I hadn't moved on, any more than you had."

"Your choice of dates made a lot more sense than mine did. It was Nas, by the way."

Kurt nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Nas Kamal?"

"You dated for a few months. You didn't tell any of us about it, but it was pretty obvious." She looked down at her lap, wondering if he remembered being attracted to Nas from before his memory cut out. _Maybe now he doesn't have his memories, he wishes he'd married her, instead._

"I don't remember any of that." He shook his head. "Must have been hard for you, having your two taskforce handlers dating."

"That wasn't why it was hard. I was in love with you the entire time."

He looked away, as though he didn't know how to react to her directness. "I'm guessing I wasn't crazy about your boyfriend, either."

She laughed. "Even less when I introduced you to him as my brother."

He blinked, and Jane could almost sense a memory returning to him. "The gala case we worked. You dated the water charity guy? Australian accent?"

"Yeah." Surprised, she searched his expression for clues. "What did you remember?"

"Not much. Just how much he annoyed me."

Amused, Jane shook her head. "Well, if you remember that, maybe you'll put a few more things together today, when you read some more of the file." She stood up, wanting to get out of the conversation before he started to question her about him and Nas. "I'm gonna go for a run, since you're allowed to be left alone today. If you feel things getting worse, though, I'll have my phone on me."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I've got coffee, I've got casefiles… I'm good."

Jane peeked over his shoulder at the open file in his lap. "Oh, uh… Just as a warning, that case was kinda hard on you. We figured out the black hole photo on Mayfair's drive, and things didn't really go according to plan."

Kurt stared up at her, his expression darkening with grief at the mention of Mayfair's name. Just like that, the easiness between them was gone, and Jane's transgressions back in the spotlight.

Glad to have an excuse to leave the apartment—anything was better than having him look at her like that—she headed for the bedroom. After changing into her running gear, she returned to the living room.

"I won't be too long."

Kurt gave her an abrupt nod, barely meeting her eyes, and Jane flinched inside at the coldness that had come over him.

 _Give him time._

Allie's advice soothed the hurt a little, and as she let herself out of the apartment, Jane reminded herself that he'd only been out of the coma for four days. His issues with her betrayal would probably take weeks to fade, assuming he recalled enough of the past that he could forgive her again.

She just hoped the memories that would lead him to that stage weren't lost forever.

* * *

For the rest of that day, Kurt kept his distance from Jane, both physically and emotionally. Reading about his own hopes that Mayfair had confided in Winter—and the way Winter had pretended to know her, before admitting he would have said anything to be rescued—hadn't helped him to deal with his grief. Though he knew it was stupid to blame Jane, he couldn't help it. Every time he revisited the memory of her confession in the MRI polygraph, rage and betrayal rose in him once more.

Even worse, he saw the hurt she was trying to hide as a result of his coldness, and that set him at war with himself again.

That night, wracked with doubt and guilt after a day of fruitless napping and file-scouring, he gave in to his softer side—the meds helped him to make that decision, he was sure—and went in search of Jane. She was curled up in Avery's bed, reading, but had left the door cracked a little as an unspoken message that she was still awake, should he need to talk.

Seeing her under the covers—though the bed was only meant for one person, and Jane was wearing perfectly innocent nightwear—made his thoughts plunge back into the gutter for a moment, and he reined them in sharply, annoyed at himself. The swing of his emotions from one extreme to the other was maddening, these days.

"You okay?" Surprised to see him in the doorway, she set down her book and sat up straighter against the pillows.

"Yeah, I…" He sighed, sitting down on the end of the bed. "I just figured I should apologise. For shutting you out today."

"Kurt, I understand. You don't have to apologise for anything." She gave him that look that had always made him want to do anything for her—all big eyes and earnest expression. The look that made him doubt his judgement these days.

He pushed the misgiving aside, too tired to argue with himself right now. "I know you understand. You…laid it out pretty well yesterday morning, when I, uh, ignored it."

 _I remember what it was like, when I got back. Loving you, but feeling so bitter and angry at how things had ended up. Hating that I couldn't trust you anymore, that what we'd had was destroyed._

Those words had been on his mind a lot, today.

"Trust takes time. To build in the first place, and to rebuild after it's broken."

Frustrated, he scowled down at his hands. "I hate knowing that I already went through all this. I just want to move forward. I've been fighting to remember, but I got almost nothing today. And knowing that I'm hurting you by being stuck in the past makes it worse."

 _I don't want to love you, but I can't stop. And then everything changes, and you're all I want._ The words wouldn't leave his throat.

"Take your time. Sure, it hurts a little, but I've been on the other side of this too, so I can bear it. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what." She hesitated, unsure. "Unless you'd rather have some space? Now you don't need to be monitored, I can find somewhere else to be…?"

"No. I think space would make it worse."

When he glanced up, she was nodding, giving him a sad smile. "Okay."

A wave of exhaustion came over him, and getting to his feet seemed an insurmountable task. "I should probably go get some sleep." Saying the words made it no easier to do.

"Okay." When he didn't— _couldn't_ —move, she shifted position under the blankets, then reached for his hand and tugged on it. "Come on; lie down for a few minutes."

He was too tired to protest, distantly registering that he was using her lap as a pillow, but unable to be anything but grateful for it in his present state. After a couple of seconds, Jane began to stroke her fingers through his hair, which was a little longer than he usually kept it, because of the weeks he'd spent in a coma. The soothing, repetitive touch only drew him more swiftly towards unconsciousness.

"I love you, Kurt. Get some rest."

 _Shouldn't be doing this._ The thought barely registered in his mind before peace finally swept through him, and he slept.


	12. Past Disasters

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's still reading! I'm dragging Kurt along down the road of regaining his trust in Jane, though he might not like it. I'm still a bit worried that I'm just retelling canon in a not very interesting way, but I guess Kurt has to come to terms with the way he feels by learning about the past, so in this case, that's not really something I can skip. Anyway, let me know what you think.

I'm planning smut possibly the chapter after next, but first Kurt has to deal with the whole Borden thing (and in this fic, they haven't found out Borden's alive yet, as you might have noticed from the way Patterson and Zapata are still talking to each other).

* * *

Kurt woke up alone, curled into a ball on Avery's bed. He didn't recall Jane sliding out from underneath him, nor did he remember her covering him with a soft fleece throw before leaving the room.

His headache had receded to a level where he could function, and he stumbled out to the bathroom, noting that the sun was just beginning to rise. After a couple of minutes, he resumed his path to find some coffee, taken aback to find Jane was sleeping on the living room couch.

Why hadn't she taken their bed, if she'd wanted to get some rest? The couch wasn't big enough for a comfortable night's sleep, which he could attest to after falling asleep there after many long, stressful days at work.

He stood at the edge of the living room, indecisive. Jane didn't seem to be a heavy sleeper, so if he carried her back to Avery's room, she'd wake up along the way—which would be just as awkward as falling asleep in her lap to begin with. On the other hand, she deserved to get some decent rest—she hadn't complained, but he could tell she hadn't had a good night's sleep in days, maybe weeks. If he woke her now, she could go grab another few hours in a proper bed.

Despite her bunched-up sleeping position, she looked peaceful, and he found himself stepping back without making a conscious decision to do so. As he quietly closed the door to his bedroom and stretched back out on the bed, forgoing the coffee in case the scent woke her, he wondered what the hell he was supposed to say to her when they were both more awake.

Lying there on the mattress they should have been sharing, he wished for the millionth time that things were simple. Last night, in the hazy moments before he'd fallen asleep, he'd finally felt some semblance of calm steal over him, with Jane's scent all around him, and her fingers carding through his hair. What would it be like to lie here with her in his arms, warm and sleepy, with no internal conflict ripping him apart?

His mind tried to run with that thought, to what she'd be wearing—or _not_ wearing—and where their hands and lips would be. He tried to shut himself down, but there was no point in fighting it. However he felt about it, he wanted Jane. He _loved_ Jane.

And even though his last dose of pills had worn off hours ago, he still kind of wished he'd carried her in here so they could spend the morning in bed together, forgetting everything else.

* * *

Jane stretched her fingers up to the ceiling, trying to work out the kinks in her spine, as she waited for the coffee to brew. _We need a bigger couch._ Then again, it had been her own decision to sleep there.

She'd do it again if it meant Kurt would still fall asleep with his head in her lap. Maybe his body hadn't allowed him any other choice, but her heart had melted when he'd actually taken her up on her suggestion. For about an hour, she'd stroked his hair and let herself relax, wondering what things would be like between them when he woke up. His mood swings seemed to be getting more extreme, and she wasn't sure what to think about that.

"You should have gotten into my bed last night. Our bed, I mean." Kurt's voice broke into her thoughts, and she turned to watch him approach.

His hair was still adorably mussed from her finger-combing, though she doubted he realised that.

She shrugged, giving him a small smile. "I thought about it, but I didn't want you to wake up and feel like I pushed you out of your own bedroom. The couch was fine."

He gave her a quick sideways glance that told her he knew she was aching this morning. "I'll make us some breakfast."

"It's okay, I can do it." She didn't think Kurt had noticed her dietary changes yet, and she didn't want to complicate things for him. "Last night you were really out of it. I want you to take it easy."

He ignored her, opening the fridge—possibly for the first time since his coma—and frowning at her large carton of soy yoghurt. "Please tell me I don't eat this stuff."

"No, that would be me. I'm vegan these days."

He spun to stare at her in only slightly exaggerated horror. "I married a _vegan_?"

Jane grinned, remembering his reaction the first time he'd tried her first attempt to make a vegan dish for both of them. His expression had been much the same. "You _married_ an omnivore, but you didn't get a divorce when I came back from Nepal a vegan. For which I'm grateful enough to make you non-vegan food, just like I have been doing since you came home from the hospital."

"And I'm _really_ grateful you're not trying to use this amnesia thing to convert me."

"Oh, please. I'm not _that_ kind of vegan." She pushed past him and slid the bacon out from behind the yoghurt carton, holding it in his line of sight. "Will bacon and eggs do for breakfast, or do you want steak, just to reassure yourself you're still the most badass meat-eater around?"

He was looking at her strangely, as though something was coming back to him, and she wondered which of their many cooking sessions it might be. After a second, he shook his head, leaned in to kiss her cheek, then told her, "Bacon and eggs will be great. I'm gonna grab a shower."

He was gone before she could react, leaving her to gaze down at the package of meat with a warm glow in her chest.

* * *

Breakfast was quiet. Jane didn't seem to know quite how to react to him this morning, as though expecting his mood to flip once again. If he was honest, Kurt wasn't entirely sure that _wouldn't_ happen. For now, though, the memory he'd regained of kissing her in the kitchen, telling her that he loved her over and over while she laughed and clung to him—that was enough for him to hang on to.

That was the kind of memory he needed to keep close to his heart.

"Did you get through many more casefiles yesterday?" Jane asked, as they cleaned up together afterwards.

"I got as far as the case you were telling me about, where I tricked you and got on the boat instead of you."

There'd been no mention of Jane telling him no one would miss her if she died, and no mention of him telling her he would, that evening. He only knew about those moments because Jane had told him about them; he didn't even remember them himself yet. It had been around then last night that he'd given up, frustrated that he hadn't made any headway with his memories.

"Ahh." The hesitant note to her tone made him wary.

"'Ahh', what?" He closed the dishwasher and leaned against it, frowning at her.

"It's nothing to do with _us_ ," she hastily reassured him, heading over to the safe to pull out the Sandstorm file again. The way she said 'us' made it clear she meant them as a couple, which was a relief. "It's just…you've always been really protective of Patterson, and this was… It really screwed her up. Sometimes I think she's still not over it."

Kurt forgot to breathe, his mind running over every screwed-up scenario. It had been hard enough watching Patterson fall apart after David's death. Her sleepless nights and overworking had culminated in her following a tattoo lead on her own, putting herself in danger with no team in the loop for backup. Eventually, they'd found her barefoot and blue-lipped in the snowy forest, battling hypothermia, chased by a serial killer and his Democrat senator brother. If Kurt and his team hadn't tracked her down in time, she'd have been murdered, if she hadn't frozen to death first. If this was worse than that…

Jane sighed, sitting down on the couch. "You can still read the file, see the photographs. I don't have a problem with that. But if you trust me enough…I'd rather be the one to tell you about it first. It, uh…it ties in to Borden, too. And Remi by extension, I guess."

Kurt sat down next to her. If there was one thing he was certain about Jane by now, it was that she wouldn't try to paint herself in a better light than she deserved. In the MRI polygraph chair, she'd defended some of her actions since she'd come out of the bag, under Oscar's influence, but since the black site—as far as he could remember—Jane's attitude towards Remi, her pre-ZIP self, had been harsh and uncompromising.

"Okay," he said simply, putting his trust in her. "Hit me with it."

She seemed a little surprised that he didn't want to fight her on it, but after only a small hesitation, she nodded. "Reade and Zapata mentioned Borden was a Sandstorm mole, right? That Shepherd put him in play in the FBI to smooth my transition into my place on your team, to calm my doubts about my previous life, make sure I didn't try to leave the team or tell anyone about Oscar, once he made contact?"

For once, the stab of betrayal Kurt felt didn't stem from Jane's actions. He'd genuinely liked Borden, had considered him a friend, and had even begun to open up a little to Borden's therapeutic advances as his father's death had drawn near—and after. To think that Borden had orchestrated things that way was more than a little hurtful.

Since waking from the coma, Borden's true origins had been pretty far down on the list of things Kurt had been worrying about—his own health, Bethany's existence, and his connection to Jane had been far more important, with the revelation that Shepherd had been watching him since his military academy days not far behind. Now, though, he allowed himself to fully process Borden's betrayal, and anger tightened his diaphragm.

"What did he do to Patterson?"

"They were dating, for a few months. It was pretty serious, at least on her part, and they seemed really happy. After what happened to David, it was great to see her smiling properly again, you know? But then Borden found out that I was undercover with Sandstorm, working with you guys against Shepherd instead of the other way around."

Kurt listened, forcing himself to breathe, as Jane related how Borden had sent word to Roman, and how Roman and Shepherd had laid a trap for the FBI, using an oblivious Jane to draw them to Shepherd's compound, which was rigged with explosives. "Twelve agents died. Reade and Nas were trapped under rubble. Reade's leg needed surgery. Zapata only just managed to get clear before the blast."

"Where was I?" he asked, his voice barely a growl.

"At the hospital. Shepherd didn't want you to come to any harm, and she knew you'd have led the strike if you weren't called away. She got one of her men to call you as everyone geared up. He pretended to be Allie's boyfriend, said she'd been in a car accident and she and Bethany might not make it. It was the most effective thing they could have said to lure you away from such an important mission."

Kurt rubbed his aching temple, knowing she was right. "And you? Where were you?"

Jane's voice was bitter. "They left me alone with the information they wanted me to see, so that I could snoop around, thinking I was doing it behind their backs, and then they let me get hold of a phone and call you. Patterson narrowed down the location of Shepherd's compound and used the data they fed me to get a rough idea of what we thought Phase Two would involve. After they used me to get the false intel to you, they sedated me. I woke up tied to a chair in front of a video feed, miles away from where they'd drugged me, and Shepherd made me watch as the FBI strike teams broke into the compound. And then she remotely blew the charges."

 _Oh, Jane._ The haunted look on his wife's face made it clear that she still struggled with her conscience over the lives lost that night.

He reached for her hand, and she managed a tiny smile as she took it.

"It was a long time ago, but so many agents died that night because of me. If I'd just anticipated…" She trailed off with a frustrated noise.

"You didn't know." He didn't remember, but of that, he was absolutely sure. "You were trying to help."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "After that, Shepherd told Roman to shoot me, but he shot Shepherd instead. I guess there was still enough of Remi in me that he couldn't do it. We both fought off Shepherd, but she managed to put a bullet in Roman, so we ran to a Sandstorm medical facility to patch him up. I saw a bottle of ZIP there—it was where they tattooed me and dosed me, before they sent me to you—and I injected Roman, and after a few complications I brought him back to the FBI. He'd have died before letting me take him in, otherwise."

Kurt wasn't sure how to feel about that part of the story. The loss of Roman's memory—and thereby any intel he had about Shepherd's next move—would have rendered him pretty much useless to the FBI at that point. Having said that, Jane had been the same when she'd been dropped off in Times Square, and had turned out to be their most valuable asset. Without knowing what had happened later—before Roman had become a danger to them all—he couldn't really judge.

"When I got back to the FBI, there were a lot of people who wanted to blame me. Pellington was pissed, Nas wasn't sure I hadn't been turned…but you stood up for me. You trusted me."

As she spoke, he could almost feel her slamming into him, her arms around his neck as he crushed her close, while she babbled apologies. _"I'm so sorry, Kurt, I'm sorry… I didn't know it was a trap. I swear, I didn't know."_ The memory of his own overwhelming relief made him catch his breath, and he fought the urge to pull his hand from Jane's, to stand up, to run away from the intensity of it.

"I remember," he murmured.

There had been no trace of doubt in his mind, not even a sliver of paranoia that Jane might be playing them. And his instincts must have been right, because she was here with him now, wearing his wedding ring, and Shepherd was a guest of the CIA, Sandstorm's plans averted. The way Kurt had felt that day was no different from the time Jonas Fischer had tried to frame Jane for his own crimes, and since Jane had been innocent then, too—at least, of being a Russian spy—Kurt guessed he could trust his gut.

And maybe that even meant he could trust it now.

"I remember that part," he repeated, with more conviction.

"You do?" Jane asked softly.

"Not much. But I remember you coming back, Pellington trying to keep you from us. I hugged you." _Squeezing her so tightly. So relieved to feel her breathing, hear her voice…_

She nodded. "I was half convinced I was gonna be shipped back to the black site because my cover was blown. I needed to check you were safe, first."

"I would never have let that happen. No matter what they said you did." Even with his mind in tatters, that was something he knew for sure.

"I know." She looked up at him, her eyes softening, though they still held a tinge of distress.

God, he wanted to kiss her again. With the return of these puzzle pieces to his mind, he felt surer of her than he had in months—without taking into account the years he was missing. Looking down at their joined hands, he reminded himself not to get distracted.

"This is…a lot to take in," he said slowly. "And this isn't even about Patterson. I think I'm gonna need some more coffee. You want some?"


	13. A Foundation of Lies

**Author's Note:** This chapter kind of swings around again a bit, but also time jumps, so Kurt is a bit more comfortable with the way his life turned out. Next chapter will probably be angsty-smutty.

* * *

Jane pulled nervously at a loose thread on her sleeve, waiting for Kurt to return to the couch with the coffee. He'd taken the news of her blown Sandstorm cover—and almost all of the catastrophe it entailed—better than she'd expected, though she suspected he was just operating on a basic level right now, unable to process the fact that he'd lost twelve agents in one night during the time he'd been in charge of the NYO.

He hadn't asked which twelve, but he'd see the pictures of their mangled, bloodied bodies in the incident reports later. She didn't think he'd been close to any of them—at least, he'd never mentioned it, if he had. But he'd taken their deaths hard at the time, and he would again, when he read the file.

And she still hadn't told him about Remi recruiting Borden. How was he going to take this news?

"Okay. So you said this was gonna be about Patterson, but…" Kurt set their mugs down on the coffee table and resumed his seat, his pain meds in hand. For him to have gotten a couple of hours into the day without them, his headache must not be as bad—which was a good sign he was healing well.

"I know. I'm sorry." She reached for her coffee. "I'm just trying to give you the context for what happened with Borden. It was that same night, after the explosions, when everything was going to hell. Reade in the hospital, me missing, twelve other agents dead… She went to Borden, her boyfriend, for comfort, but she found him packing up his stuff, ready to run back to Sandstorm."

Kurt waited, putting no pressure on her to provide the next part of the story. Did he sense how hard it was for her to admit this part?

Jane steeled herself, a small shudder running through her, and confessed, "Remi recruited him in 2013. So what happened to Patterson, what I'm about to tell you, that was my fault too, I guess."

"You're not the same person you were back then." His gaze on her face—when she dared to meet his eyes—was steady, unwavering. He really wasn't adding this to her list of failings?

"But still, if I hadn't brought him back from Afghanistan…"

He shook his head. "Back up a little. Remi met Borden in Afghanistan?"

Jane took him through what she'd remembered, and the details Sandstorm had filled in for her. The drone attack on her Orion team, her subsequent convalescence with the Thorntons, the second drone attack.

She flashed Kurt a weak smile. "So there you have it. That's what persuaded Remi to wipe her memory and get your name tattooed on her back."

"None of that is your fault, Jane. You didn't know Borden was the mole. You would never stand by and watch Patterson be hurt. I know that much."

"Thank you." Tears came to her eyes. She hadn't realised how much she'd needed him to know that until he said it.

"What happened that night?" he asked.

Jane told him about the ring she'd remembered and drawn for Patterson, and the way Borden had been wearing it that night. "She realised Remi had known him, which would make him Sandstorm. So she tried to arrest him."

"It didn't go well?" He was tense, staring down at his coffee, waiting for the worst.

"He shot her. By accident, I think, but he still did it."

"Son of a bitch." The words were barely audible.

"She passed out, and when she woke up, she'd been moved and patched up a little, so she'd live. Shepherd started torturing her, trying to get information on what we knew, but Patterson provoked her, so Shepherd knocked her out. What we didn't know when we managed to rescue her was that while she was unconscious again, they implanted a bug in her tooth."

"Shit. Patterson is the one who gives us most of our intel before we head out." He exhaled hard. "And _Borden_ did this to her?"

"Shepherd left him with her when she woke up, said she wanted Borden to kill her. He didn't have any intention of doing it, but she didn't know that. She pleaded with him for her life, tried to reach the part of him that cared about her, and she managed to stall him for long enough that he had to run to evade us. We got her out, got her to the hospital, but she was pretty broken up."

"Where's the bastard now? Tell me we got him." His voice was mostly even, but his knuckles were white on the handle of his coffee mug.

"We laid a trap for him once Patterson realised she was bugged. He ran, but she managed to chase him down. She wanted to bring him in, make him pay for his crimes, but he had a grenade on him, and he pulled the pin. She only just managed to get out of the blast radius in time. And the moment the Sandstorm case was done, she started making plans to leave the FBI. She only came back for the new tattoos because Rich goaded her into it."

Kurt was silent, his jaw set. Recognising the signs that he was battling his rage and helplessness, Jane quietly got up and left the room, letting him process.

What was it like, to have so many bombshells dropped on him within the space of a few days? Jane herself had had amnesia, but she'd had no one to fill in the blanks for her. To begin with, she'd only had one or two fragments of memory per day, sometimes not even enough to interpret properly.

Kurt had an entire file filled with the cases he'd missed—plus Jane, the team, and their close friends to fill him in on what wasn't in the file. It must be overwhelming to have so much to catch up on, and she didn't want to get in the way.

A few minutes later, he called her name, and she returned to the living room to find him pushing his feet into his sneakers.

"I'm gonna go for a walk."

Alarmed, she began mentally running through worst-case scenarios. He was still deconditioned from the coma; he could collapse from exhaustion and she wouldn't know. The transition of the air pressure from indoors to outdoors could trigger a worsening of his headache. He could pass out from some unseen complication, and she'd be clueless.

"Let me come with you."

He shook his head, a wry smile at the corners of his lips. "Just around the park. You know, the park you can almost see from out there." He indicated the balcony. "I need a little space, Jane. Just to walk, and to think about…everything."

She was being overprotective, she knew. But that didn't mean she had to like his decision. "Okay, but take your phone, in case you take a turn for the worse out there."

"Yes, ma'am." He picked up his cell phone from the coffee table and pocketed it. "I'll be fine. Really."

She nodded, and must have failed to hide her anxiety, because he took a step closer. "I don't want to make you worry, Jane. It's just…frustrating that every time I need to go after someone who's done my family or friends wrong, they're already dead."

 _Oscar. His father. Borden._

After only the slightest hesitation, Jane closed the distance between them and put her arms around him, offering comfort. He froze for a fraction of a second, then wrapped his arms around her in return, giving a deep, shuddering sigh.

"If it helps, you got to take down Shepherd," she told him, drawing back with a small smile.

"It would probably help more if I could remember. But yeah, it does make things a little easier to know that." He sighed and backed towards the door. "I'll only be gone for a half-hour. Maybe not even that."

"Okay. Be careful. I love you." He'd told her not to stop saying it, and she couldn't help herself now. She hadn't been paying enough attention to say it before he and Reade had gone on the arrest that had led to his coma. She wouldn't make the same mistake this time.

His expression warmed a little, and he nodded. "Back soon."

* * *

A couple of days passed. Kurt returned to the hospital for another scan, to check on his physical progress. The brain swelling had continued to lessen, and the specialist was optimistic that his memories should almost completely recover with time—though he cautioned that it was never a sure thing with brain injuries.

Kurt had Skyped with Sarah a couple of times since he'd regained consciousness. She was very apologetic that she hadn't flown back in to see him since he'd regained consciousness , though initially evasive as to why that was. After he'd pressed her for the details a couple of times, she confessed that Sawyer had been having major anxiety attacks. "There was an active shooter at his school just after your head injury. Ever since then, he's been scared to be out in public for too long, so airports and air travel are kind of a big no right now. He's seeing a therapist, but I don't want to leave him while he needs me, and I know you've got a lot of other people looking out for you over there, so…"

He'd reassured her that it was fine, that she should focus on Sawyer, and tried not to imagine his nephew crouching in a broom closet, trying to avoid an armed suspect's notice. The previous year—no, a couple of years more than that—he'd witnessed an active shooter situation on a college campus. It had been a mess, and he could only imagine it was worse when it involved a bunch of high school freshmen. _Fuck, things have changed since I was a kid. Poor Sawyer._

"Anyway, I don't know how having me around would help you get your memories back. Apart from your wedding, I wasn't there for most of the time. And since you have a whole DVD and photo album of your wedding to help you remember _that,_ I doubt anything I said could help you better."

"It's okay, Sarah. Really. I'm just sorry I can't be there to help Sawyer."

His sister had rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. This is why I didn't want to tell you about him. You hear about a problem and you want to be the one who solves it. Just focus on your memory, okay? Sawyer is struggling a little right now, but I'm here for him. You just…go be there for your brain."

* * *

The day after his hospital appointment, Jane went to spend the afternoon with her daughter, after Kurt repeatedly assured her that he'd be fine alone for a few hours. Remembering his sister's words about the wedding, he reached for the DVD once Jane had left, and began to watch it from the beginning.

Seeing Jane reluctantly hold still while the wedding beautician fussed with her hair and makeup, while Patterson and Zapata quizzed her on whether she had her old, new, borrowed and blue items, he couldn't help but grin. Most women would have been delighted with getting a wedding day makeover, but from Jane's frequent fidgeting and eyerolls in response to her maid of honour's demands, she'd suffered through it all.

"Can't I just put on the dress and go get married now?" she asked plaintively, at one point in the video.

"Sure, if you want to look like a half-assed bride. Not that Kurt would care if you showed up in your bathrobe and slippers," Zapata retorted.

The scene changed to the wedding venue. When Reade asked Kurt if he was nervous about the ceremony, as they'd waited near the outdoor altar and rows of seating lined up in front of it, Kurt simply replied, "No."

"Really? No cold feet at all?" Reade asked, a note of scepticism in his voice.

Watching in the future, Kurt couldn't help but feel that same cynicism, until his past self said, "We already worked through all the fears and doubts before we officially got together. We're both in this for good, now."

"Jinx," Kurt murmured, shaking his head at his own naïve optimism.

He'd already watched the wedding ceremony at Allie's insistence, but he watched it again, smiling a little this time. Snippets of the day began to come back to him—not the ceremony itself, but parts of the reception. He paused the DVD for a moment, distracted by the memory of holding Jane close on an empty dance floor, as fairy lights shone all around them and she gazed up tenderly into his eyes.

It took him a few seconds to remember how to breathe past the wave of love that broke over him, and he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and riding the unexpectedly powerful emotion.

It didn't entirely fade as he watched a couple of minutes of the wedding photography and the speeches that went along with the reception meal, followed by…

Kurt blinked as his past self sat down in front of the video camera, addressing it as if it were Jane. He'd obviously had a little too much to drink already, but part of him was clearly high on the joy of it being his wedding day. This was the self that Kurt had trouble recognising, though he had to admit, his happiness didn't seem as alien to him now as it had a few days ago.

" _You're my North Star. You're my starting point, and you're my end point."_

Kurt found himself nodding along, a little ruefully. Whether he liked it or not, Jane would always be that important to him. And where earlier in the week, he'd questioned how the hell he'd brought himself to marry her, now he couldn't imagine having not done so.

Strange, the difference a few memories could make.

A few drunken speeches later, Jane sat down in front of the camera, and he caught his breath at how beautiful she looked. The way her wedding dress emphasised her tattoos, rather than hiding them, made him smile. And when she began to speak, her smile wider and more joyful than anything he could remember seeing from her in real life, he wished he could reach out and touch her.

" _Kurt Weller, there's a lot I want to say to you...but I was told to keep it PG-13, so I'll save the good stuff for our honeymoon."_

Instantly, Kurt's mind shifted gears. What had happened on their honeymoon? Where had they gone? Why couldn't he remember any of the 'good stuff' she was referring to, or even any of the times they'd kissed since they'd gotten back together? It was as though his brain was taunting him. Why couldn't he remember any of the—presumably many—times he'd made love to his wife? Or even the moment he'd first told her he loved her?

As he watched his own past self crash the video diary, and Jane jokingly ask if he thought she'd run away already— _ouch, in retrospect_ —he shook his aching head. The obvious, overwhelming love on her face as she pressed her forehead against his on-screen counterpart's was almost enough to make him jealous.

 _That's you, you idiot. She's your wife. Your starting point._

 _Even if your marriage did screw up after a couple of months, and Jane left you twice, and won't tell you what the second time was about._

He groaned, resting his head in his hands for a moment. Were all marriages this complicated, or were they just as bad at marriage as they had been at communicating?

 _Weller, whatever you think you have with my sister, it's built on a foundation of lies._

Kurt froze. The new voice had come from his memory, not the DVD. He stared at the screen, not really seeing it, as he remembered something about an added scene, Roman having filmed his own video diary and inserted it into the footage.

 _There's more pain coming, and there is nothing either of you can do to stop it._

Kurt hit the fast forward button on the DVD remote, but though he skimmed through the entire rest of the wedding video, there was no sign of what he was remembering. Was his mind playing tricks on him? That made no sense. More likely, this was a different copy of the DVD, an undoctored one they'd ordered from the videographer to replace one that now sat in the FBI evidence lockup.

Unless he'd ordered a new one because he'd seen the doctored footage and tried to hide it from Jane. What if she didn't even know about her brother's surprise cameo? Would Kurt have hidden it from her to protect her from being hurt? He'd gotten far enough in the Sandstorm files to know that after being given ZIP and brought in to the FBI, Roman had formed a closer bond with Jane—one he was assuming Shepherd had later shattered.

Now that he remembered Roman's face, though, something else was coming back to him. Roman, on the street outside their apartment block, threatening to tell Jane about Berlin.

Kurt didn't remember having ever visited Germany, which meant it had happened fairly recently.

What had happened in Berlin? Why did he feel like a chasm of dread was opening beneath his feet even at the name of the city?

Roman had said their marriage was 'built on a foundation of lies'. Jane's lies, or Kurt's? He knew Jane had lied to him—about remembering being Taylor, about Oscar's missions—but some vague feeling told him there was another huge lie that _he'd_ told at some point, some event he'd been desperate to keep Jane in the dark about. That inexplicable guilt he'd been trying to figure out, the remembered feeling with no reason attached to it—was that what Roman had meant?

What the hell had he done that Roman was now holding over him, or had once been holding over him? Did Jane know about it? Had they already worked through it and put it behind them, or was it still a looming threat to destabilise their relationship?

 _She can never know._

He couldn't ask her. If he did, and she didn't know what he was talking about, that would put a whole new wedge between them, and he had only just begun to face how urgently he wanted to hold on to what they had.

There was no one he could go to for help, not without it getting back to Jane. Even Zapata was pretty squarely on Jane's side these days—not that there should even be a side to pick.

 _Fuck._

He just needed more context, needed to know if the reason he and Jane had broken up was the same reason he'd felt such incredibly intense guilt. If his headache would just let up for five seconds, and he could remember being in Berlin…

 _Please let this be something Jane already knows about. I can't lose her now. I just can't._


	14. An Empty Bed

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the cliffhanger, but also kinda...not sorry. ;)

* * *

"Are you okay?" Jane asked, then shook her head. "Sorry. I'll stop."

There was something going on with Kurt, though. Since yesterday, when she'd gotten back from visiting Avery at Tasha's place, she'd sensed he was more troubled than he had been in a couple of days. He hadn't volunteered any information on what might be occupying his mind, but…

Of course, it could have just been the transition from the strong painkillers to the milder ones. His headache had receded to a level where he no longer needed the opioids, which was great from a physical healing perspective. However, Jane couldn't deny that his lowered inhibitions, while he'd been on the stronger stuff, had helped them to bridge the gap between them caused by his memory loss. She wasn't sure if he'd continue to be as open with her now.

Kurt looked up from the Sandstorm file with a small smile. "You do know that's the fourth time this afternoon you've asked, right?"

"I know. I guess I'm still a little scared that you're gonna relapse."

He put aside the file and reached for her hand. "I'm not. I feel…not fine, but better. Cabin fever's starting to get to me, though. If I can go in to work on Monday…"

Jane bit back her instinct to insist that he should stay at home. It would work about as well as when he'd tried to bench her, back when she'd still barely remembered anything. They were both happiest when they were active, trying to solve their problems. Jane did plan to have a quiet word with Reade, however, suggesting that he be confined to the NYO for the first day or two, before joining her in the field.

"Jane. I will be fine." Kurt looked amused. "Starting to get a real appreciation of how you felt, back at the beginning of your case."

"Just promise you'll take it slow?" There was a note of pleading in her voice that she hadn't meant to come through.

"I will. I swear."

She got the feeling he'd say anything just to be allowed back to work, but decided not to bug him about it. She'd be exactly the same, in his place.

"Want to take a walk? Just around the park?"

He stood up and stretched a little. "Yeah, why not? God knows I need the exercise."

* * *

Ten minutes later, as they walked along the path in the gathering dusk, Jane once more got the strong feeling something was bothering Kurt. It wasn't anything he said or did, but she knew him well enough to sense something akin to anxiety within him. Had he remembered something he didn't want to talk about yet, or was she being paranoid?

"What?" he asked, glancing over.

"You're really not gonna tell me what's wrong?"

His shoulders rose defensively for a second, then dropped as he sighed. "You mean apart from still having huge gaps in my memory? I don't know how you live like this, Jane."

"I don't know what it feels like _not_ to have those gaps," she pointed out. "But your doctor still thinks most of it will come back, right?"

"In theory," he agreed.

Still, she suspected he was being general to avoid her question. Something had happened yesterday, she was sure of it. "Is there anything you've remembered that you still don't have a context for?"

He didn't look at her as he replied, "Nothing I can explain. Some memories of feelings that are disconnected. Negative feelings. But there's a lot of stuff I've only heard about from you, or read about in the files. Until I get the memories back, I won't know what attaches to what."

Jane nodded slowly. It sounded different to what she'd experienced. Usually, her memories were strongly tethered to the emotions that accompanied them—or else she got no emotions along with the recollection at all. Maybe they differed because of the causes of their amnesia.

Could he be remembering Berlin or their most recent break-up, without knowing exactly what had caused him to feel that way? _God, I hope not._

Before she could try to press him further, he shook his head. "And I miss Bethany."

 _Of course. Is there a day that passes that you don't?_ She couldn't help but smile, albeit sadly. "She left a big impression, huh?"

"I've only spent a few hours with her that I can remember, but it's like there's a space in my heart that's empty now." He rolled his eyes at himself. "I know, it sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't." She leaned against the railing and stared out at the river. "We were starting to plan for moving back to Colorado when we've dealt with Crawford and Roman. Nothing concrete yet, but we were talking about it, here and there. So, give it a few months, and you can go back to seeing her every couple of days."

"I only remember a little from our time there. Did we transfer to the Denver field office?"

Jane wrapped her arms around herself, a little embarrassed to admit the truth. "You did. Only qualified agents can transfer between offices, though. I was just an asset, consultant, whatever you want to call it—and once we moved out to Denver, I wasn't even that."

Kurt frowned. "You didn't want to go through Quantico? I mean, I know your past is questionable, but if Reade or Hirst had pulled some strings…"

He fell silent at the shake of her head, and for a moment they were both quiet—Kurt waiting, and Jane working up to telling him the situation.

"I have no idea why—maybe for the same reason why I didn't appear in any of the FBI's databases when I first got there—but Remi Briggs doesn't have an education record, or medical records…as far as the system is concerned, she doesn't exist. I know I changed my name and went to school as Remi. I _remember_ going to school, just parts, here and there. But there's no administrative record of it, which means I can't use Remi's records for myself. I'm pretty much unemployable outside of the NYO and—" She cut herself off, unwilling to mention her work as a K and R mercenary while she'd been on the run, in case it triggered a memory of Clem for Kurt.

"What about Alice Kruger?" Kurt asked.

"There's where it gets complicated." Grateful he wasn't calling her on what she'd been about to say, Jane shot him a rueful look. "Alice Kruger has a GED. The military wouldn't have taken her without one. But Alice Kruger was killed in action two years before Jane Doe appeared."

Kurt nodded, getting the picture.

"Patterson said she didn't dare change my file, in case there's some kind of digital alert attached to it. Tom Carter probably ran Orion, and he's dead, but there's probably someone out there who still gets notified if someone starts messing around in files no one should be interested in. The last thing we wanted was for the CIA version of Zero Division to come knocking on our door, especially since we were planning our wedding at the time."

Her husband frowned over at her. "So you can't prove to an employer that you have qualifications."

"Nope. Patterson offered to falsify some records, but it felt like cheating, somehow. Yeah, I know it's stupid," she interrupted herself, seeing his unsuccessfully suppressed smile. "But Remi did so many terrible things, I just didn't want to add to that. So I was studying for Jane Doe's GED when the bounty hunters started coming for me. After that, I was using fake identities most of the time, so it didn't matter what I did or didn't have a record of."

He took her hand. "Why does this bother you so much, Jane?"

"I don't know." She did, and he deserved an explanation, so she amended her statement. "I just…I was in a new city, with a new husband who was financially supporting me while I studied. I had no job, no friends nearby except for Allie and Connor, and a newborn baby at the house for at half of every week. I guess I just didn't feel much like myself anymore. And that was probably a big part of why I ran without telling you I was going to do it. Mostly I was protecting you, but I guess part of me wanted to find where I fit in the world, too."

They began to walk slowly back towards home, quiet for a minute or two.

"I can understand that," Kurt said, finally breaking the silence. "But I have to ask…if we go back to Colorado after the case is finished, what's gonna be different this time?"

Even with redactions in his memory, he was still way too insightful. "That was what we were starting to talk about. Whether I could handle it. What we could do differently this time."

"Did we come up with anything?" The dryness in his voice implied he was pretty sure of the answer.

"Not yet." She couldn't look at him, ashamed to be the problem that was keeping him from spending more time with the daughter he adored.

"Then we'll keep thinking," he said simply, and squeezed her hand. "If you need to stay here a while longer, we can leave that option open, too."

She nodded, sliding her arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder while they walked. After a moment, Kurt put his arm around her in return, and a bittersweet smile came to her lips as he kissed the top of her head.

Whether he realised it or not, he was becoming more and more openly affectionate with her as time went on. It had been only a week before that he'd called her a terrorist and demanded she leave his presence—she hadn't dared to hope for this much progress in such a short time, even if his mood was still unpredictable.

 _Wonder what things will be like this time next week._

* * *

 _Kurt woke to the sound of his three-month-old daughter crying, which wasn't unusual of late. The house felt colder than usual, though. Emptier, somehow. And he'd fallen asleep in the nursery? Jane would laugh at him and his overprotectiveness._ "Kurt, she's a baby. She can't stand up yet, much less climb out of the crib…"

 _But then he remembered the night before, and a fresh chill went through him. Bounty hunters were coming for his wife, and there was nothing they could do to cancel the hit._

 _Picking up Bethany and cradling her against his chest, he called, "Jane?"_

 _No response but the light patter of rain against the window, as Bethany quieted for a few moments. Then she worked up to a full-on, red-faced scream, and Kurt carried her into the kitchen, knowing she wouldn't be happy until she had breakfast._

 _It was barely dawn, and there were still bloodstains on the rug from last night's altercation with the bounty hunters. They'd need to pick up some heavy-duty stain remover, maybe even throw out the rug entirely. The emergency glazers had come last night to replace the window, thank god, so that was one less thing for them to worry about._

 _God, Allie was gonna go ballistic when she found out about last night. And he wouldn't blame her—but he just hadn't wanted to pull Allie or Connor off their shift and let his daughter go with them, not if he and Jane were gonna have to run soon. The CIA had left a detail outside as backup until they could get Bethany back to Allie today._

 _Kurt pulled one of the baby bottles from the fridge and set it on to heat, the actions performed on autopilot as he again wondered where Jane was. She'd said she'd take the first watch last night, so he could get some rest and be awake enough this morning to explain things to Allie. Had Jane fallen asleep? But if she had, surely Bethany's crying would have woken her up by now._

" _Jane?" he called again, raising his voice enough to be heard over his daughter's wailing._

 _Bethany screamed, and he tried in vain to quiet her, a headache beginning to grow at his temples. "C'mon, Bee, gimme a break," he murmured to her, bouncing her in his arms a little. "Breakfast's coming."_

 _As the bottle heated, he moved from room to room, checking for Jane. She was nowhere to be found, and he yanked open the door to the closet, hoping like hell that his growing suspicion was unfounded. As his eyes fell on the empty space on the floor of the closet, where a duffel bag usually rested, denial set in. "No. No, Jane—damn it, no!"_

 _Somehow, he managed to keep it together enough check the temperature of Bethany's breakfast, and encourage her to quiet down enough to drink. Balancing his baby against his stomach, with one hand supporting her bottle, he somehow managed to locate his cell phone and call Keaton._

" _Where the hell is she?" he half-snarled into the phone, making Bethany stare up at him in confusion, the bottle teat slipping from her mouth. He rocked his daughter reassuringly, focusing her attention on her breakfast again, as he listened to the reply._

" _Honestly, Weller, I don't know. I put her on a CIA jet and told the pilot to work out a destination with Jane. Knowing her, she would have jumped out of the plane in midair or something to throw you off the scent."_

 _Hot rage flared through him, and only Bethany stopped him from completely losing it. "You were there last night. You_ knew _I didn't want her to go off alone."_

" _It was her decision, and frankly, I think it was a good one. Even if you take your kid out of the equation, two people moving around together are more conspicuous than one. She needs to stay as low as possible, and keep moving. People will go to extraordinary lengths for a million bucks, and the tattoos make her stand out."_

 _Anguish was gathering on the edge of Kurt's senses, but numbness held it at bay for now._

" _Tell me you have some idea of how to go about getting this bounty off her head. I know what you said last night, but—"_

" _We're doing everything we can on our end. Maybe the FBI can lend us some resources, help us out."_

" _I'll talk to my people." He stared into space, seeing nothing, already trying to plan his next moves. Where would Jane have gone? Who were the next few people he should call?_

" _For what it's worth, Weller, I'm sorry. I know you two have been through hell already. You deserved some peace and quiet."_

 _The genuinely heartfelt words did nothing but irritate Kurt. Some of that hell had been inflicted by Keaton. "Just call me the second you have something."_

" _Oh, and she said to tell you she loves you, and that she's sorry."_

 _Kurt opened his mouth, but his throat was too constricted by fear, anger and desolation for him to form words. Instead, he hit the button to end the call and threw down the phone, forcing himself to take deep breaths._

 _A numb haze finally settled over him, and he managed to get Bethany fed, her diaper changed, and put her back in her crib. Only then, as he turned away, did he notice Jane's wedding ring, abandoned on the top of the dresser._

 _The façade of calm he'd built around himself shattered, and despair flooded his senses._

" _Jane," he whispered, tears stinging his eyelids as he closed his fist around the wedding band._

 _It was so goddamn typical of her to give him an out, to worry that he'd feel trapped in their marriage with a wife who was no longer there, not knowing how long she'd be gone or if she'd be back. But she should have known he wouldn't take this as a final goodbye._

 _He was going to find her, and help her face down these bastards, and bring her back home. There was no other alternative._

* * *

Kurt jolted awake, unable to move as memories of that tense, difficult time rolled over him. So many nights, he'd spent just like this—in bed, alone, with sleep eluding him. He remembered each nagging fear and doubt that had refused to leave his mind—that Jane would be dead, her body disposed of so that no one would ever identify her by her distinctive tattoos. Or that her body would be found, his name inked on her back for all to see, and he'd receive a phone call from a coroner asking for the identity of the Jane Doe they had in their morgue.

 _Jane Doe. Now that would almost be funny, if it wouldn't kill me so much inside._

He recalled nights in this bed, in their Colorado bed, on friends' couches. Nights in successively crappier hotel and motel beds around the world, as his budget waned and he spent less and less on accommodation.

He remembered fears about being too late, arriving just in time to watch Jane die. Worries about money, and whether he'd even have enough to support them both when he finally found her. Irritation and hurt that she couldn't send him—or someone they knew—a goddamn coded postcard every once in a while, to let him know she was safe. Then deep, soul-rending guilt that he was blaming his wife for trying to protect him and his child from the mortal danger she was facing down every day.

More intense than any other emotion, though, was the echoing loneliness in his heart and mind. The pain caused by knowing that if he reached out in the middle of the night, Jane would no longer be there. The emptiness inside that only her smile, her voice, her scent and her warmth could fill.

And that inexplicable, crushing terror that she'd leave him—for good, this time—if she found out what he'd done— _what did I do? Goddamn it…_

Chasing that fear got him nowhere, so he backed away from it, releasing the memory and letting himself fall back into the current of raw emotions.

So many nights he'd spent aching to hold his wife, to feel her breathe deeply as she slept. Hell, just to know that she was still alive, still missed him, still wanted to come home to him—that would have been a dream come true.

And here Kurt was, not even a year later, sleeping alone again, with Jane in a separate bed only two rooms away. The ridiculousness of it made him laugh under his breath as he sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

He pulled on some sweatpants—as much as he loved Jane, his memories of them being intimate amounted to virtually nothing, so he wasn't comfortable just walking around the apartment in his underwear—and left the bedroom, unsurprised to find the apartment in darkness. He had no idea what time it was, hadn't checked the clock before his impulsive decision to get up.

 _Waking her up in the middle of the night would be pretty damn selfish, Weller._ He went into the bathroom instead, took a quick shower to rinse off the sweat his memory-dream had left on his skin. After towelling off, he threw his underwear in the bathroom hamper and pulled the sweatpants back on for the trip back to the bedroom.

There was a sliver of light coming from underneath the spare bedroom's door now, where there had only been darkness before. He'd woken Jane, and only part of him was sorry about it, because the remembered need to hold her had become a fierce, present-moment reality.

With no clear approach in mind, he tapped on the door. Jane's muffled voice called for him to come in, so he pushed open the door, only then remembering he should probably have grabbed a shirt before doing so.

"Hey. Sorry—I didn't mean to wake you, I just…" His mind stalled, still labouring to process so many memories all at once, no matter how similar most of them were.

"It's okay." Perceptive as always, she sat up, frowning. "Are _you_ okay?"

He took in her tousled hair, the concern in her face, the way the sleeve of her tank top had almost slipped off her shoulder, and the ability to speak left him completely. With a slight shake of his head at his own uselessness, he crossed the room, leaned over the bed and tilted Jane's face up to meet his kiss.

He could almost taste her confusion and worry in her response, but her hand slipped to the back of his neck, preventing him from retreating as she pressed her lips against his. After a few seconds, her mind overrode her instincts. She leaned back to study his face, her attention wandering to his lips as though she couldn't help herself, before she concentrated on his eyes once more.

Before she could ask what was going through his mind, he brushed a kiss over her neck, just under her ear. "Come back to our bed?"


	15. Right Here

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry I made you guys wait for this one! I did mean to update it before Christmas, but then I had Christmas fics to write for the holidayblindspot event on Tumblr, so I had to back-burner this. Anyway, it ended up being less epic than I first visualised, but true to the moment, I think.

And yes, this will be my last update of the year, and the decade, even! Here's hoping 2020 brings us an amazing conclusion to canon, some wonderful fanworks, and hopefully a few new faces to the fandom! On with the fic...

* * *

 _What happened, Kurt?_

The question was on Jane's lips, but she swallowed it. Answers could come later. What mattered right now was that her husband was leaning over her, radiating a need that was only partly sexual, inviting her back to their marital bed.

He straightened and backed off a step, giving her space to decide—as if she needed it. Whether sex ended up being part of the equation or not, she knew exactly where she was spending the rest of the night.

She pushed back the bedcovers and stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist before he could try to give her any more room. He exhaled hard, embracing her in return, seeming grateful just to hold her. Jane rested her head on his shoulder, brushing her lips over the side of his jaw and sliding her fingers up his naked spine to press her palms against his shoulder blades.

Between them, his cock was only just beginning to harden, another indication his invitation to bed wasn't made because he needed to get off. She nuzzled his stubbled jawline and murmured, "Okay. Let me quickly stop by the bathroom, and I'll see you in a minute?"

For a moment, his embrace tightened, as though the idea of letting her go was too much to bear. But then he loosened his grip, drawing back enough that he could look her in the face, checking she was okay with everything.

Jane gave him a quick kiss that was meant to be a 'see you soon', but the subtle shiver that went through him gave her butterflies. She stepped past him almost shyly, letting her hand linger on his side for a moment. "Okay?"

He nodded, his expression somewhere between lost and longing, and she retreated into the bathroom, her emotions a confused mess.

As she relieved herself and washed her hands, she considered what to do. He'd obviously remembered something that had made him want to be close to her, but despite his body's reaction, his mind might still be too conflicted for sex.

They should cuddle up in bed for a while, talk about what he'd dreamed, and then see where it took them. Communication with Kurt these days was a little harder than it had been before the coma—he guarded his feelings much more now, still remembering how to open up—but maybe he'd want to talk about it a little if he was holding her, in their bed.

Jane took a deep breath and left the bathroom, finding that Kurt had already switched off the lamp in Avery's room and had left the door to their dimly lit bedroom ajar. She hesitated in the doorway, finding Kurt sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing only a pair of sweatpants.

He got to his feet as she came in, and she shut the door behind her automatically, her attention fully on her sexy-as-hell husband.

Kurt met her halfway across the room, the haunted look in his eyes still present, now joined by desire. As he lightly rested his hands on her waist, she slid her hands up his biceps. "Not sleepy?"

"I don't wanna talk."

Immediately, Jane's good intentions evaporated. "Okay."

He kissed her, hot and demanding, but far too brief. As she melted against him, trying to catch her breath, he gazed down at her. "Okay?"

She nodded, her pulse already racing at the growl in his voice. "I'll let you lead."

Kurt answered with another kiss, longer this time, and no less searing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed shamelessly against his hard-on, parting her lips to deepen the kiss, letting him taste her and tasting him in return. He slipped his hands under the back of her shirt, lifting it as he explored her back. Jane raised her arms above her head in invitation for him to strip the tank top off altogether, and he broke their kiss, breathlessly looking down at her revealed skin as he pulled away the fabric that separated them.

It was strange to have him gaze at her breasts as though he'd never seen them before. The tattoos over and around her nipples had made her feel a little self-conscious during their first time, until he'd kissed and nuzzled each one, teasing them into hard points and smiling at the way she'd whispered his name.

This time, he used his hands, stroking and pinching, rolling her nipples against the pads of his thumbs the way she loved him to. Whether he remembered making love to her or not, his body still carried the muscle memory, and she smiled up into his face, pressing into his touch.

"What?" he murmured, frowning a little.

"Your body still remembers me, even if your mind doesn't." She slid her hands down the back of his sweatpants, cupping his ass in both hands and drawing him as close as she could.

"Could have told you that days ago." He kissed her neck provocatively, his lips and tongue making her skin tingle, and stroked one hand lower down her body, into her pyjama pants. When his fingers found her slick and ready for him, he groaned.

"God, Jane. I want to do so much with you, make this last for hours, but all I can think about is—"

Jane pushed his pants down over his hips, then took hold of his thick, hard cock. "I know. It's okay."

He exhaled shakily, kicking off the pants, then thrusting into her hand. "Feels so damn good to have you touch me."

They moved slowly towards the bed, Jane still slowly stroking his cock, revelling in his pleasure. Kurt guided her onto the mattress, then tugged off the remainder of her clothing, swallowing hard as he took in the sight of her fully naked body for the 'first time'.

Unable to tear her gaze from the hunger in his eyes, Jane pulled him closer. As he moved over her, she met his desperate kiss eagerly, reaching down to stroke him again. Kurt cursed under his breath as Jane positioned his cock at just the right spot to let him in.

"We're good for birth control?"

She smiled, despite her frustration. She ached for him to fill her, her pulse pounding between her thighs, but she respected his need to check. "We're good for everything."

He surged forward, driving into her almost completely with one thrust. Jane grabbed his ass and tilted up, adjusting the angle so that his second thrust buried him as deep as he could get. "Oh, god, Kurt, I missed you."

His cock pulsed within her, but he didn't move, his face pressed against the side of her neck as he pinned her down. A shudder of pleasure shook him, but otherwise he kept still, breathing her in.

It reminded her more of their first time after she'd gotten back from Nepal than their first time ever, and her arousal-fogged brain gradually put together what he must have been remembering earlier. _The time he spent without me._

Just as she had that night, she held onto him as tightly as she could and whispered, "I'm right here."

He lifted his head and kissed her, and she could almost taste the loneliness he'd remembered. As she kissed him back, stroking his hair, pouring all of her love into the moment, he rolled them over, then wrapped his arms around her to keep her close.

"I love you," she murmured against his lips, and kissed him again, letting him know she didn't expect him to return the declaration.

He cupped her head in both hands, easing her back from the kiss. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. She could read it plainly in his face, and they both knew it.

Even if it took a little more time to leave his lips, this unspoken moment was enough of an affirmation of his love. She smiled, joyful tears stinging her eyes, and gave him a fierce kiss.

And finally, _finally,_ he gripped her hips and began to take her from below—slow, powerful thrusts that made her muscles begin to coil in pleasurable anticipation. She caught his rhythm, riding his cock, taking control instinctively while he explored her body with his hands. It didn't take long for her to cry out with ecstasy, all the stress and the worry of the past few weeks releasing in strong pulses, making her arch and gasp and then collapse onto Kurt's chest.

He wasn't far behind her, rolling her over as his thrusts became rapid and insistent, and she dug her fingers into his back, knowing it always pushed him towards the brink. His climax shook through him as he drove into her a final few times, his satisfied growl making her smile.

They fell still, their breathing ragged as they held onto each other. Jane ran her fingers through Kurt's hair, enjoying the afterglow. Having her husband so close to her after all of the uncertainty of his memory loss was blissful, though she knew they still had a long way to go.

"You even awake?" she teased lightly, after a couple of minutes had passed.

Kurt's response was an incoherent grumble, and Jane laughed as he tightened his arms around her. After a moment more, he rolled onto his side, allowing her space that she wasn't sure she wanted. Jane gave him a slow, loving kiss before turning over, putting her back to him so that they could spoon together comfortably.

She also suspected he might open up a little more if she wasn't looking at him.

"I've spent so long imagining us together. This hardly even feels real," he admitted softly.

"You still don't remember all the other times we've done this?" She closed her eyes and focused on his voice, his body heat against her back, his hand resting over her heart.

"Does my imagination count?"

Jane smiled at the wry note in his voice, knowing he must have been driving himself crazy trying to recall their past intimacy. "Well, if you don't start remembering soon, I'll just have to guide you through a few re-enactments."

He drew her more tightly against him, obviously liking that idea, but stayed quiet. For a few moments, Jane began to fear that he'd fall asleep before she could get him to talk about the dream that had brought him to her in the middle of the night.

But if he did, didn't he deserve that? What they'd just done was—for him, and just for now—their first time together. If he wanted to quietly bask in the glorious release of that until he fell asleep, she should let him.

Part of her wanted to do the same. The past three weeks had been so stressful and emotionally agonising for her that this reconnection with Kurt was a huge relief. Surely talking about it all could wait until the morning?

Just as she was about to give herself permission to fall asleep, Kurt sighed, then mumbled, "I guess I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything, Kurt." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I won't deny that I'm curious, but I can wait, if you need some time."

He kissed the top of her head, acknowledging her words. "Thanks. But we…we should talk about it."

"Okay. What did you remember?" Between the way he'd looked when he'd come to her in Avery's room, and the way he'd made love to her, she had a few ideas. "Finding me, on the run?"

His grip tightened. "Losing you. The morning I realised you'd gone without me."

 _Oh, Kurt…_

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, remorse tightening her throat. She stroked his back, hoping to reassure him. "I never wanted to hurt you."

He was silent for a while, as though trying to figure out how to express himself. "Other memories came back when I woke up. Empty beds. How I felt when I couldn't sleep."

She swallowed back tears, holding him as tightly as she could, wondering what she could possibly say to make it better. From her own side of the memory, it had been unbearable—and she'd been the one who'd chosen to leave. She couldn't imagine how much worse it had been for Kurt.

"Remembering that, it felt wrong that you were sleeping in there, alone. I just…" He fell silent, as though he'd reached his limit on how much he was comfortable sharing for one day.

"I'm glad you came to me," she said, when it was obvious he wasn't going to pick up the sentence again.

He kissed the back of her neck, and changed the subject. "Is it weird that I'm worrying about how good I am in bed compared to my past self?"

Jane couldn't help herself. She snickered, then outright laughed. It was such a _guy_ thing to be worried about. Even when she'd been with Oscar, she hadn't obsessed about whether she was as good in bed as Remi had been—not that she'd known the name 'Remi' at the time.

Kurt rolled her over, rising on one elbow to look down at her. "What?"

"You're the same person, Kurt." She reached up to stroke her hand over his jaw, grinning. "Competing with yourself is totally pointless."

He rolled his eyes at her amusement, though she saw a glimmer of it in his expression, amidst the insecurity. "It's not that. I just…feel like I could have done better tonight, that's all. For you."

"I got what I needed." _And I know you love hearing that._ "Our actual first time together was over pretty quickly, too. I think we were so used to being interrupted by then, we just wanted to get on with it so that no one could stop it from happening."

He nodded, tracing the tattoo below her collarbones with gentle sweeps of his fingertip. "Makes sense."

"But a little later, we made up for everything we didn't do the first time." She nuzzled his hand. "Anyway, tonight was a lot less physically painful than back then. We were both covered in cuts and bruises that night, and your leg was still healing, so…"

"What happened to my leg?" Kurt frowned.

Jane reached down under the covers, skimming across his thigh until she could find the slightly rough scar where the puncture wound had been. "You haven't been wondering what this one was from? I can tell you the story, if you want."

"Is it gonna be dramatic and angst-ridden?" He rested his hand over hers, desire in his eyes.

"Probably."

Kurt leaned down to kiss her, and she submitted to the affection willingly, her mind already skipping ahead to what he might be planning next. She'd almost forgotten their conversation when he picked it up again, his voice a low growl.

"Save the story for tomorrow. There are other things I want to work on remembering right now."

Jane was too busy gasping with pleasure to reply.


End file.
